Two Ships in Passing
by BrookeLynnBridges
Summary: England 1843, Bruce Wayne has been sent to retrieve Lady Diana Princeton, who has been assumed dead these last 13 years, and bring her back to what remains of her family in England. However things don't go as smoothly as planned once the girl is on board his ship. How will things change as the pair get to know one another? And what does life hold for Diana back in England? BM/WW.
1. Prologue

**D** **isclaimer: I got the name Zachary Princeton from a fanfic I read once on this site, I believe it was "The Last Laugh" by The Cleric.**

 **Also, the beginning plot to this story is based off a book I read called "Hawk and Jewel", but the whole story will not be a retelling of that book.**

 **Please Review and I hope you Enjoy.**

 **Prologue**

 _London England, 1830_

Zachary Princeton, Duke of Hever, slowly walked down the gangplank behind the six sailors who balanced his wife's coffin precariously on their shoulders. One of the men slipped on the slick boards. Zachary's heart lurched as he watched the coffin sway, before steadying once more.

 _Foolish_ _reaction,_ he thought.

It wasn't as if Hippolyta could feel anything…or ever would again.

For a moment he paused in the middle of the plank, hesitant to leave. Turning halfway he observed the ship, _The Amazon Queen_. It had been a gift for his wife. He had had it made especially for Hippolyta to celebrate their voyage. A sort of peace offering. This vessel had filled him with so much hope, but now, he never wished to see it again.

Turning back around he finished his descent to the dock, staring at his shoes as he went. Once on more stable boards, he looked up, and somehow his heart sank even further.

He recognized the carriage before he saw the lady who rode in it. She waited patiently under its cover. Safe from the rain she watched as the tired men loaded the coffin into a waiting hearse.

Zachary knew there was no sense in putting off the unpleasant task. She had never liked him, but he hoped that in their shared grief they might bury the hatchet.

As he approached the older woman opened the door and motioned him in out of the rain. He obliged. Sitting gingerly on the velvet interior he pulled his long legs as close to his chest as he could manage, trying to make her comfortable with his presence by being decidedly uncomfortable himself.

"Is it true? Your message, is it true? Is my daughter dead?"

He hung his head, nearly touching it to his knees, and nodded.

"I am so sorry, Hippolyta is dead."

She had never been one to show emotion, an unfortunate trait inherited by her daughter. But her steely resolve slipped. He saw a tear in her grey eyes, she blinked it away and stared straight ahead with her back as upright and stiff as a beam. She refused to make eye contact with him, the son-in-law she never wanted. Instead, she asked him a question, to which the answer would haunt them both for the rest of their lives.

"And what of little Diana?"

Again, the Duke shook his head, but this time he shed the tears he had not felt for his wife. With labored breath and sniffling, they ran down his nose and dripped onto the expensive carpeting.

In a rare moment of sympathy, she handed the distraught man a handkerchief. He dried his eyes, did his best to regain his composure, and shook his head once more.

"There was no trace of her. She drowned in the sea."

This time her face betrayed nothing. Her voice was commanding and dared any to contradict her.

"I don't believe it. I would know if she were dead too. I would know."

Zachary looked at those aristocratic features that were only beginning to show age. Glorious dark hair shinning with streaks of grey and unyielding eyes refusing to see facts. He found he felt sorry for her.

 _Poor woman,_ he thought.

Diana Lennox had survived two husbands and now a daughter. Though she was a strong woman, her heart had faced all the loss it could take. She couldn't accept the death of another loved one. Especially not the death of her favorite grandchild, her namesake. That bright, little, raven-haired enchantress, who hadn't made it to her second birthday. But was lost at sea a mere two weeks before it.

 _Poor woman, poor Hippolyta, poor dear sweet child._

 _The Kingdom_ __ _of Dagra off the Arabian Sea, 1830_

Nura hurried through the marbled corridors. Servants, slaves, and concubines cleared a path, bowing to the Sultan's first wife. Brushing past them she rushed into the room. There, cocooned in silken sheets and pillows lay the child, sound asleep.

Smiling the woman knelt and tenderly brushed a raven curl from the toddler's face. Pressing a kiss to the little girl's forehead she listened to the soft, steady, sound of her breathing and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

She had wanted this child, wanted her more than anything else in the world. A little girl all her own to love. It had taken time, but the Sultan had finally agreed to her pleas and now she had her heart's desire, a daughter.

Nura guessed her to be about three, given her height and predicted she would be quite the beauty one day.

A small lump formed in her throat as she thought of how the little girl had screamed and cried for her mother. Calling over and over again for the woman in that odd tongue.

The babe had clung to Nura and had not let anyone else near her for weeks. She fantasized that the child had chosen her to be her new mother. After the foreign woman had died, Nura knew God had granted this precious little girl to her.

She had felt a twinge of guilt when the woman's husband arrived. He was looking for her and his child. She pushed the thought from her mind. After all, men so rarely took to female children, she was sure he would waste no time forgetting about this one.

Pulling _her daughter_ close Nura held her whilst she slept.

"Rest little one, you are a princess now, and I will love you more than any mother has ever loved a child. My little sun and stars."


	2. Chapter 1: Princess Amira

**Side note: I used the words Ami for mom and Alab for father. I have no idea if these are accurate in anyway they are just the words I chose.**

 **Please Review, and Thank You for reading.**

 **Chapter 1: Princess Amira**

 _Palace Harem Kingdom of Dagra, May 1843_

"Come on Shayera just a few more steps, or are you getting slow in your old age?" the Princess laughed as she raced up the narrow stone staircase.

The older girl clearly resented being called washed up and now flew up the stairs with intensified speed.

"Careful Amira, your balance might be thrown off by that big head of yours."

Both ran with all their might, but in the end they were well matched and both reached the top in unison. Completely out of breath and lungs burning both girls fell to the floor.

Laughing they caught their breath. Shayera sat up feeling the cool stone against her mostly bare back as she leaned against the tower's low upper wall. It would be best to remain sitting so as not to be spotted, seeing as how it was strictly forbidden for them—or any woman from the harem—to climb the tower. But that mattered little to the girls, they had been sneaking up here since they were old enough to hide from their nurses.

"I won't be able to keep pace with you much longer; not if you keep growing." Shayera laughed as she playfully tossed her silk veil over her little sister's head. Amira swatted at the cloth and flimsily pushed it back in her sister's face.

Rolling over onto her stomach the younger girl frowned dramatically at her older sister, her beautiful azure eyes crossing comically as she groaned in frustration.

" _Ugh!_ Growing indeed!"

Shayera laughed at her irritation.

"No I am serious!"

"Oh I know you are, that's what makes it so funny."

Amira pushed herself off the floor into a sitting position and edged closer to Shayera and playfully punched her in the shoulder.

" _Ow!_ Alright, Alright!"

"I mean just look at these, things! It's like I just woke up one day and _bam!_ "

Shayera chuckled. "Bam indeed."

"Stop it! It isn't funny, who knew they would be so uncomfortable. If I had known that before I never would have wished for them."

This time Shayera howled with laughter, clutching her midsection as tears of mirth leaked from her eyes.

"Oh aren't you the vain one!"

"I am not!"

"Yes you are! For months you complained that if you never got breasts you would run into the desert and abandon yourself to the mercies of the sands. And now you have gotten your wish and you act as if you have been cursed worse than a potter with no hands. You, my unsatisfied little sister are as vain as a peacock!"

Shayera chuckled again at Amira's sufferings and then let out a sigh. She closed her eyes as she tipped her head back, resting it on the ledge of the low wall. A breeze blew through causing her earrings to jingle as they danced with the wind.

"Oh, you needn't worry. With a face like yours every man from here to the red sea will be crawling across the sands on his hands and knees to beg Alab for the chance to take you for a wife. Why, if I had a figure like yours I wouldn't settle for anything less than a Prince. And to think you aren't even done growing into your shape yet. You are already nearly as tall as me, give it another month and you'll probably pass me all together….No, you most certainly have nothing to vex your pretty little head about. I, on the other hand, will be lucky if Alab manages to pay someone to take me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Just look at me!" Shayera sat up straight and turned to face her sister directly, so as to give the other the best view of her features.

"What man wants a wife with hair the color of fire, skin the shade of sand, and eyes like an always illusive green pasture."

Amira quickly covered her mouth with her hands, trying in vain to muffle her laughter.

"Well, how about a goat herder? I bet he would like having a wife that can blend in so well with the desert, and he might even find green eyes as a good omen for pastures yet to be found. Yes that is what you need! A nice old goat herder, I am sure he would be quite pleased to take you for a third…no fourth wife."

Once again Amira rippled with laughter as Shayera pushed her over in mock outrage at the slander against her looks, but she couldn't keep the playful smirk off her own lips and enveloped her still chuckling little sister in an affectionate hug.

The two girls had always been close. In fact, practically inseparable since they were toddlers. Being the youngest of the Sultan's children and only a year apart in age they were destined to be each other's natural (if not only) choice of playmate. But as the years passed, their bond quickly surpassed one of mere convenience.

One thing that had drawn them together was their appearance. Neither blended with the other women of the harem, causing the two to always stick out in a most uncomfortable way. Both Amira, with her large azure eyes and pale skin, and Shayera, with light green eyes and red hair, contrasted sharply with the dark beauty of their sisters.

Of course no one would ever have pointed this fact out to Amira, given her status as daughter of the first wife. But Shayera had not been afforded that luxury and had endured many slurs and insults at her foreign appearance. This had given the girl a hardened pride in herself that could only be born from bitterness.

She was often cold, sarcastic, and difficult with all those around her and the other women always took it as a great blessing if she consented to cooperate at all. The only person to not ever have felt the barb of Shayera's tongue or the brunt of her hatred was Amira.

Of course not all of the resentment harbored toward Shayera could be laid at the girl's feet. Shayera's mother's tale was as intertwined with that of her daughter's as it was complicated.

Shiera (Shayera's mother) was born in a country far to the north. Unfortunately she could never remember which country since she was so young when forced to leave, but she often spoke of recalling herself playing in snow with an unnamed brother.

When Shiera was very young (she hadn't known for sure but guessed she was around 3), she was stolen from her home and sold to a slave trader further south who put her on a ship, sending her even farther away from her ancestral homeland. Once off the ship she was sold yet again, this time to a local noble who desired a playmate for his sickly daughter.

Shiera lived with the noble and his family for three years. It was a pleasant time in her life and she remembered it fondly as the only childhood she had known. Unfortunately, the noble's daughter continued to weaken and eventually succumbed to her illness. After his child's death the noble saw no reason to keep her former companion around and promptly sold the girl off without even the decency of allowing her a chance to say goodbye to the household.

Shiera always remembered the fear she felt straight to her toes when a strange man had entered the house, taken her by the arm and dragged her kicking and screaming out the door. Throwing her across a horse's back, he had tied her hands and feet so she couldn't escape. The last glimpse she had of her former owner was that of his counting a small sack of golden coins.

From then on she was sold from one master to another until she lost count. Each perpetual sale moved her farther south until the sun shone hot and dry on her pale skin, and she got her first sight of the palm and date trees that peppered the landscape.

When she was just on the cusp of womanhood she was sold once again. This time to a seedy caravan leader named Arash, whose eye for a good deal was just as crooked as his teeth. It was while in his employ that she finally crossed into the seaside kingdom of Dagra and saw for the first time the dazzling splendor of Sultan Garsiv's beautiful capital city.

Unfortunately Arash quickly got on the Sultan's bad side and soon found himself with his head in the very real danger of being removed from his shoulders.

In an attempt to save his skin, and knowing the Sultan's eye for beauty, he offered up his young slave girl as a gift in the hope that she would sufficiently soothe the Sultan's wounded vanity and calm his wrath.

The plan worked. Arash escaped with his life and was banished from the kingdom's boarders, and young Shiera found herself the concubine of the Sultan of Dagra. Garsiv was enchanted by her pale red hair and light green eyes that looked like the sea after a storm.

The Sultan so enjoyed his new "toy" that every opportunity that presented itself he would use as an excuse to spend his time _solely_ with her. His otherwise-ignored wives did not take kindly to the new favorite and the poor girl found herself completely devoid of female companionship or protection in the woman dominated harem that was her new home.

Nura saw the situation as an unpleasant but temporary one and let the young girl be. She more than any of the others understood the wandering affections of the Sultan and knew that soon enough a new face would catch his fancy and he would once more be splitting his time more equally amongst the power hungry women of the harem.

But the Sultan's other three wives Maha, Nadia, and Fayza, not to mention the concubines, did not view the situation with as much foresight as Nura. They tortured the red-haired beauty with all the venom and ferocity that naturally builds among those whose entire life revolves around one shared sun.

Of course no one asked Shiera if she had asked for or even wanted the Sultan's undivided attentions, and they wouldn't have heeded her answer even if she had volunteered the information. She was an outlet for their wounded vanity and shame and they took full advantage of her subservient nature and soft-spoken character, both traits born from years of enslavement at the hands of other equally harsh task masters.

The hostilities from the other women died down slightly at the birth of Shiera's daughter. Nura even made a point of visiting her in her rooms and commenting, if a little woodenly, on the new baby's health and good fortune at managing to survive being born nearly two months early.

"She's a fighter." Nura said, and no other prediction she ever made would come to be as true as that one.

But just as her life began to be freer of hostilities within the harem, her relationship with the Sultan started to deteriorate.

He had wanted a son. He already had three daughters and saw another one as an insult to his manhood. Of course he already had sons, but he was not a man easily satisfied.

The attentions so lavished upon her before became decidedly colder—and even cruel at times—as his disappointment simmered, increasing his determination for a son with each passing month.

It took many years, but when Shayera was seven years old her mother once again gave birth to a child. This time, however, the fates were not so kind. The child, a boy, died before ever taking his first breath. His mother had no knowledge of his passing. Her mind was too torn apart by the fever that consumed her, and three days after her prince's death she too breathed her last.

The Sultan had her body buried without ceremony in the endless red sands. Their daughter would often look across them from her high vantage point within her gilded cage, searching for the grave of her mother, but never finding it.

The other women of the harem should have rallied together around the motherless child, and they would have if the child herself hadn't been such a glaring reminder of the rival they had all so bitterly hated.

Shayera had inherited her mother's light green eyes and red hair, though hers was of a far deeper shade and looked like a rich blazing fire that gathered around her shoulders. Her skin wasn't as pale as her mother's, being more olive tinted, but it was still nothing compared to the bronzed beauty of her other sisters. Shiera had paled in the hot sun of Dagra, but Shayera came alive in it and blazed with a more intense majesty then her mother had ever possessed.

In temperament, where her mother had become meek and docile from her years of slavery Shayera served no one. The girl had a temper like the sea and a tongue that could cut a man through. She was fiery and passionate, but mostly forgotten.

Eventually Nura recognized the damage they had done to the innocent girl out of residual hatred for her mother. Feeling responsible and ashamed, she became Shayera's reluctant guardian and protector. It had to do in part with the friendship that had blossomed between the child of Shiera and her own daughter Amira.

Wishing to protect her own precious daughter at all costs she extended that protection to her closest friend. In time she came to accept Shayera for her own merits and even grew to care for her. But even this new found favor wasn't enough to completely silence whispering tongues. Whenever Nura's back was turned Shayera found herself once again at the mercy of long held jealousies.

Amira on the other hand had never had to deal with such unpleasantries. She was the much adored Princess Amira of Dagra, sole daughter of Nura, first wife of Sultan Garsiv, ruler of the harem. She had been pampered and spoiled every day for as long as she could remember. Nothing was withheld from her. Every desire of the heart was granted; every jewel and trinket, servant and toy were all hers for the taking.

None would ever have dared mock her as an outsider or taunt her for her looks for fear of repercussions from her mother. But just because they wouldn't do so to her face, like they did to Shayera, did not mean everything was as pleasant as it seemed.

Though not all, some of the women did resent her her high place. It came out in vicious whispers, delayed service, hesitant friendships, and knowing smirks. All these things were done covertly, but the effects were still felt.

She knew she was different, that was no secret. And though her mother loved her unconditionally and she held the affections of many around her, Amira still couldn't escape the sense that she didn't completely belong.

"So this goat herder of mine, any chance he is young and handsome?" Shayera asked with mock seriousness.

"Hmmm, I am afraid not…" Amira put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, stretching the other hand out to search for answers across time. Then in a shaky forbearing voice. " _He will be 100, with a long beard that touches the ground, one snaggle tooth, and he will be mostly blind and deaf!_ "

"Good."

Amira broke her pretend trance and looked at her sister in confusion.

"Good? You want to marry a grouchy old man?"

"Why not? If he is old and blind then he won't be able to stop me from running away. Besides, I might like goats."

"You've never seen a goat."

"That's not true, remember, Nadira had a goat."

"That wasn't a goat that was a demon! I am glad he wound up being cooked."

(Laughter) "He was vicious, but poor Nadira she loved that thing even had a servant carry it around on a pillow."

"Till he bit the servant. I repeat not a good representative of goats."

"Perhaps not."

Both girls sat back against the wall, listening to the faint hum of voices from the courtyard below.

Amira ran her hand over the cool stone of the tower floor, tracing the intricate design of flowers that was carved into the stone. The tower was so beautiful to the eye that to look at it one would never have guessed that its original purpose had been one of war.

It had been built during a bloody civil war a century ago. The tower was used as a look out for hostile troops and to hold them off while the women of the harem escaped through secret tunnels beneath the palace. Or so legend said, Shayera and Amira had searched countless times but had never been able to locate the tunnels, but the tower still stood and now it was the ideal hiding place for two teenage girls.

It had the most wonderful view of the outside world, the forbidden world.

"Can you see it? Is it there?"

"Here it comes! Look!"

Both girls peered over the edge at the ocean's horizon. A small brown dot grew steadily closer taking on the form of a ship as it entered the harbor. Amira's excitement built as she leaned over the edge, trying to get as close to the elusive vessel as possible.

"Can you see the flag? Do you know which one it is?"

Shayera narrowed her eyes, peering intently at the ship's rigging.

Amira waited impatiently, Shayera had eyes like a hawk.

"It's English! That's the British flag right? Blue and white with a red cross?" Shayera asked.

"Yes, yes that's it! That's the one!"

Amira wrapped her arms around her sister's neck in a chocking hug and leaned out precariously over the ledge trying to see the colors for herself.

"Whoa there!" Shayera said pulling her sister back before she fell to her death.

"I know you seem to think you can fly but I wouldn't suggest testing that ability."

"Sorry, but it is just so exciting to see one at last."

"Do you still plan on asking Nura to be allowed to visit the ship?"

"Yes, but I know the decision isn't hers alone, I just hope she will be able to convince Alab."

"And do you really think you will be satisfied once you have seen it?"

The younger girl nodded her head vigorously.

"I just want to see it, just once."

Shayera nodded her head. She understood wanting to taste freedom, for just a moment.

"PRINCESS AMIRA! PRINCESS SHAYERA! COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

Both girls immediately fell to the floor unmoving.

" _Do you think she saw us?_ " Amira whispered.

"I KNOW YOU'RE UP THERE!"

"I think she saw us." Shayera replied as she stood.

"Coming!" she hollered down and they began their slow decline down the narrow steps.

They were met at the bottom of the stairs by a very stern, very fat, middle aged Egyptian woman. Her arms were too fat to cross comfortably so she rested her hands disapprovingly on her hips. She was short, barely coming to Shayera's shoulders, and she had a fat neck with a triple chin.

Her name was Fadeela and just one look from her would make anyone unfortunate enough to be on the other end of that look wish to repent all their sins or otherwise die from the shame.

Fadeela was old, probably 80, she had been Nura's nurse when she was young and had accompanied her as a young bride to the harem. She has also served as Amira's nurse maid and still believed herself responsible for the young Princess despite the fact that she was no longer a child.

But that didn't matter to Fadeela, no one disobeyed her. Shayera had even witnessed the self-righteous Shani put in her place by Fadeela's disapproval.

The fat little woman waddled up the young girls and wagged a swollen finger in their downturned faces.

"How many times must I tell you? It is forbidden to climb the tower!"

"We're sorry Fadeela but we just wanted to see the…"

"Oh!" The old servant wailed dramatically. "Allah forgive me for not teaching them proper respect! I tried, you know I tried! Please save them from their own foolishness."

Shayera crossed her arms and raised a critical eyebrow to Fadeela's dramatics.

"Oh honestly! It isn't like we jumped the walls and seduced every man from here to Damascus."

Fadeela slapped a hand over her heart causing her large bosom to shake. Amira shot Shayera with an exasperated expression but the older girl just shrugged her shoulders, refusing to be sorry for being so disrespectful to her elder.

Once again a fat finger pushed itself into Shayera's face.

"You, Princess, will find your life very difficult unless you learn to curb that tongue of yours."

Shayera responded by sticking her tongue out. Amira gave her an elbow to the ribs and tried to apologize on her behalf.

"I am sorry Fadeela but it wasn't Shayera's fault, I was the one who wanted to see the ship."

"This again! I thought you had learned your lesson the last time." The old woman sighed deeply and looked at both girls with a touch of sadness and pity. With motherly sympathy she took their slender hands in her chubby ones.

"Why can't the two of you be satisfied with what you have? You have good lives, you are Princesses. Oh my little girls why do you try and vex my old soul."

That did it. Both girls hung their heads in shame and immediately apologized. Smiling sweetly in victory Fadeela turned on her heels and motioned for them to follow.

"The banquet is in a few hours and it is time you two started getting ready."

After bathing and having oils rubbed into their skin and their hair rinsed with rose water the women of the harem began to dress for the banquet. It was the Sultan's birthday and celebrations had been going on for weeks throughout the kingdom. But tonight it was the harem's turn to honor him. And every woman wished to look her best.

Shayera had dressed in a light green top and pants that gathered around her ankles but were loose and comfortable. Small yellow diamonds had been sewn into the fabric as flowers with silver thread creating vines and leaves. Her short top cut off above her waist and she had her slaves create an elaborate henna design on her hands, feet, and bare midsection.

Amira wore a short top of pale pink and a skirt of the same color with various layers of silk and gauze. Gold thread and beads had been used to create bursting sun patterns on the skirt and across the low neck of the top. Since her arms were bare she wore bands of hammered gold on her upper arm and her wrists jingled with bangles of various precious metals.

Now the girls sat in the courtyard on a large Persian carpet. While their servants braided their hair Amira rummaged through various chests and cases picking what jewelry she wished to wear and Shayera held and ornate hand mirror to her face as she applied kohl around her eyes.

The sun was setting and a cool breeze blew through the courtyard. Many other women had had a similar idea and were also getting ready in the shade of the courtyard so the sound of soft chatter and female laughter wafted like music through the air.

"So, did you ask her?"

"No. I haven't seen my mother all day, she has been busy making sure her slaves delivered the food and money she wished to give to charity."

"Your mother certainly gives a lot to charity, not to mention that whenever there is a crisis in the harem she takes it upon herself to settle the matter."

"Well she is supposed to, she's ruler of the harem."

"I know but don't you ever feel like she takes too much upon herself? It's like she is trying to work off a past sin or something."

Amira shrugged her shoulders and continued searching through the jewels.

"Look at that!"

Shayera turned from her reflection to see Amira's hand remove from the box a small doll. It was carved very intricately of wood into the image of Amira herself, though a much younger version. The carving was painted with bright colors that were just beginning to fade and chip.

"I had forgotten about this!"

When the girls had been quite small, 7 and 8, one of the eunuchs had carved dolls for the pair from wood, one in the likeness of each and the pair had spent many happy hours playing together with the dolls. But they toys had remained forgotten by Amira for many years.

"I can't believe I still have this, Shayera where's yours?"

The older girl returned her attention to the mirror and shrugged.

"I don't know. I doubt I even still have it."

Amira returned the doll to the box and began searching once more.

"Ugh!"

"What's the matter, nothing suit your vanity?" Shayera teased as she put the finishing touches on her eyes.

"What do you think?" she turned her face one way than the other giving Amira a good view of her face.

"Very nice, and for your information I was looking for something for you."

"Me?"

"Yes, but if you wish to continue insulting me."

"No, no, no, don't be like that I love presents, what is it?"

Amira's smile broadened and she pulled an exquisite rope of perfect pearls from a deep chest and held them out for her sister to observe.

Shayera took in a sharp breathe of awe. She owned many nice things but nothing compared to this.

"Amira, it's…their…I can't."

"Of course you can!" She announced as she draped the priceless necklace over her sister's head and sat back admiring the effect.

"Now you look like a Queen."

"Amira, really I can't take these they are yours."

"Nonsense! I want you to have them, don't you like them?"

Shayera's hands closed protectively around the pearls.

"Of course I do, I love them."

"Then it's settled."

Amira smiled and when back to rummaging through the jewelry pile, this time procuring a pair of earrings for herself.

Shayera silently thought of how lucky she was to have such a generous sister. Amira had always hated to see anyone do without and she loved to shower those she loved with gifts. The girl was generous to a fault, but there are worse flaws to have.

"Thank you Amira."

The sound of feet slapping against the marble floor reached their ears and the girls turned to see one of Nura's servants coming to them. She knelt on the floor and bowed respectfully before delivering her message.

"Princess Amira, your mother wishes to see you and is currently waiting in her chambers."

Amira nodded. "Thank you Fawzia, please tell her I am on my way."

The young woman bowed once again and scurried to do her bidding.

"Do you think it's about the tower?" Shayera asked.

"Only one way to find out."

 _Nura_

Nura sat on her expensive cushions and watched as slaves laid out one lavish outfit after another so she could decide what to wear to the banquet, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

She hadn't been sleeping well, she had been plagued by troubling dreams where a pale woman with blond hair called out to her and made her sin known. Shaking her head she pushed down the unsettling memory.

She would have Fadeela arrange for more food to be taken to the poor later.

 _And will that be enough Nura? Will that make the dreams stop? Will it finally erase what you've done?_

"Ami?"

Nura snapped back to reality. Her daughter, her beautiful daughter watched her with concern.

"Are you alright?"

Amira knelt before her mother and Nura smiled, putting her hand to her daughter's face, her darker hand contrasting sharply with Amira's lighter skin.

Kissing her forehead she helped the girl stand.

"I am fine my sun and stars, just tired. Let me see your outfit."

Amira spun happily so her mother could see her in all her glory.

Nura applauded. "Very beautiful, I see Wafa has braided jasmine into your hair, it is a nice touch."

"Thank you Ami."

"I wanted to make sure you were properly attired, tonight is an important event. But I see your judgment is suitable. You look wonderful."

Amira spun once more and the bells on her ankles sang.

"Ami, may I ask you for something?"

"Of course my love."

Amira took and deep breathe, and then blurted it out.

"I WANT TO VISIT THE SHIP!"

Nura blinked in surprise.

"What?"

"I am sorry Ami but we climbed the tower today and…"

"Yes I know. Amira, you know it is forbidden…"

"I know but we saw a ship, and English ship!"

Nura felt herself being suffocated by fear but she managed to keep her features serene.

"Did you?"

"Yes, and please I promise just let me see it once and I will never ask again….AND I WON'T CLIMB THE TOWER FOR A MONTH!"

Nura did her best not to laugh. Amira had always been unusually honest for a child, as was evidence by the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to ignore the temptation of the tower forever and wouldn't pretend otherwise.

Nura looked at her daughters pleading face and knew she could deny her nothing.

"I will speak to the Sultan tonight, he has summoned me after the banquet."

The girl squealed in delight and hugged her mother close.

"I have to tell Shayera!"

She ran out of the room and Nura felt her legs go weak. Falling to her knees she fought back her own terror.

 _Allah help me._

 _After the Banquet._

Nura held her head high as she walked down the seeming less endless corridor to her husband's chambers.

Once in front of the impressive double doors she waited patiently for the servant to announce her.

Upon entering she had to work hard to keep her breathing steady as she bowed before the man upon whom her whole life depended.

"Greetings my lord."

He motioned for her to rise and Nura had to admit that despite his age he was still an impressive looking man.

The Sultan smiled menacingly as he looked at his wife.

"Nura, just as lovely as ever."

She had the decency to blush at his complement though she knew it was only lip service. There was no love lost between them now. She had been his wife for over thirty years and born him four sons which he had effectively taken away from her stating that they had no need to be raised in the world of women. She did not like him but he was her husband and Sultan, she was bound to serve him.

"You sent for me my lord?"

"I did, I wished to discuss your daughter."

Nura gasped. "What about Amira?"

His smile increased.

"I only wish the best for her. That reminds me I have heard that you have been having trouble sleeping recently."

She wasn't surprised he knew about that, he had spies everywhere.

"Well you will be happy to know that I have arranged to take care of your guilt. And Amira too."

Nura lost herself in panic and approached her husband.

"What have you done Garsiv?"

His brow narrowed at her forwardness and she immediately dropped her gaze.

"I have sent inquires and found some pleasant news. Turns out the girl's family lives, and they will be most pleased to take her back as one of their own."

"(Gasp) _the ship!_ "

"Yes, it arrived this morning. Her people are most anxious for her return and I have no desire to prolong their wait."

Nura fell to her knees as tears streamed down her face.

"Why are you doing this? You can't take her from me. She is my daughter!"

The Sultan stood with authority over the woman who crouched before him.

"My generosity gave her to you in the first place and it is my wish that she be taken away! Besides, wars are not cheap my dear and if you wished to keep those pretty jewels around your neck, then sacrifices must be made."

Nura threw the necklace at his feet and proceeded to discard the rest of her ornament in a similar fashion.

"TAKE IT! TAKE ALL OF IT! JUST DON'T TAKE HER!"

The Sultan waved his hand nonchalantly.

"It is already done."

Nura began to wail with sorrow as her heart broke.

" _Get up wife!_ " Garsiv hissed and two slave girls scurried to help her to her feet. Though they had to support her for she could no longer support herself.

He clapped his hands and a woman stepped forward. She was dressed strangely and carrying several bolts of doughty colored cloth.

"This is Laurel, she will make sure the Princess is ready for her voyage."

With that he waved her away and the servants practically carried Nura to the door.

As if he hadn't done enough the Sultan added one last barb to Nura's sufferings.

"The Princess is not to be told, simply tell her that her wish has been granted and that in a week's time she will be allowed to visit the English ship. And Nura, no one else is to be told either."

 _I can't even say goodbye._

This time the servants did have to carry her out for she had fainted from the shock. In the chaos no one noticed a slight shadow disappearing down the hallway.

 _Six days later Sultan's Harem, Dagra_

Amira twirled before the full length mirror admiring her reflection. So absorbed in her appearance was she that she didn't notice her mother's arrival.

"And what sort of garment is that?" asked Nura as she sat upon the bed.

Amira's eyes danced with delight as she showed off for her mother.

"It's a dress Ami, don't you think it is lovely?"

Nura crinkled her nose at the brown woolen dress. It had a high color and absolutely no embellishment of any kind. The sleeves were long reaching all the way to the wrist and seemed a bit too tight for comfort. Amira, being too caught up in the newness of the experience failed to notice the garments failings.

She spun once more watching the heavy skirt flail about her.

"And look at this!" She cried as she lifted the skirt to reveal layers of similar skirts in white as well as funny looking little pants that stopped at the knee and black things covering her legs. On her feet were a pair of brown boots that seemed most unbecoming to Nura's eye.

"Why so much?"

"Laurel said it is so the crew will not be embarrassed by my presence.

"I say they will not be, for it is you dear daughter that will be embarrassed."

Amira laughed and kissed her mother's cheek.

"Oh thank you so much!"

Nura had to fight back the tears as she forced a smile on her lips.

In a moment of weakness she grabbed the girl and held her close and a bone crushing embrace.

Not understanding the relevance of the moment the child struggled to free herself.

"Ami! You'll ruin my dress!"

Nura chuckled and let her go.

Amira once again looked in the mirror.

"Oh it is just wonderful! I must go show Shayera!"

With that she raced out of her room, leaving her mother behind.

It was late and most were already asleep, but Amira hoped that her sister wouldn't be. Sure enough Shayera was awake. Sitting up on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, watching the shadows cast by the lantern dance on the wall. She did not smile when her sister entered but just watched her show off her knew outfit.

Once again Amira was too caught up in the moment to notice her sister's odd reaction.

"Don't you like it Shayera?"

"It's very nice Amira."

Moving to Shayera's mirror Amira continued to dance before her reflection while Shayera watched with an emotionless face.


	3. Chapter 2: Across the Sea

**!Please Review!**

 **Chapter 2: Across the Sea**

 _Kingdom of Dagra, May 1843_

 _Amira_

Amira smoothed down the folds of her brown dress with great care. She wanted to be sure she looked perfect, the last thing she wanted was to offend the sailors who had been so kind as to allow her to visit their ship. Once again she nervously pulled down the sleeve over her wrist making sure all the flesh was covered.

It was dreadfully hot in the wool gown, but she put the discomfort out of her mind. It was well worth the discomfort to finally be able to see the ship, something she had longed for for years. She made a mental promise to be sure to take careful note of everything she saw in order to relay the experience in perfect detail to Shayera when she returned home to the palace.

Just then one of the servants carrying her litter stumbled causing the vehicle to lurch. Instinctively she put a hand to the smooth frame bracing herself. Thankfully the servants steadied and the cushioned platform began to sway with its proper rhythmic gait once again.

She wished she could see properly but she dared not pull back the thin silk curtains. She was so close to receiving her greatest wish that it would not be wise to tempt fate by breaking the rules. Besides, soon it wouldn't matter; she would be on the ship, and then everything would change.

 _On Board the Knight's Revenge, May 1843_

 _Bruce_

Bruce Wayne waited uneasily on the deck of his ship, _The Knight's Revenge_. Waiting, for her to arrive.

He had arrived on this Kingdom's shores a week ago. The Sultan had refused to allow him access to the girl until certain _arrangements_ had been made. The extended stay had been inconvenient but that mattered little. He would be damned before he left her behind.

In his 25 years of life, he had never taken anything as seriously as his promise to bring this girl home, and Bruce took everything seriously.

He had hoped that he would have been able to see her before their departure. To share her family's good wishes and discuss the various aspects of the journey. But all contact had been strictly forbidden by the Sultan, and he had had no means by which to combat such a command.

That overbearing formality and complete lack of contact with the ruler's ward had been his first inklings of suspicion. The second had come with the long days of negotiation and debate that had followed. But all worry seemed to be laid at rest, for last night a message had arrived stating that she would arrive in the morning hours on the following day.

And now he stood on deck watching the slow procession making its way up the dock. The crew was lined up and the ship shone like a beautiful jewel, no surface had gone unpolished. He had left nothing to chance, nothing undone, all was in readiness to welcome her aboard and to take her home.

The procession came to rest at the base of the gangplank. At its center was an ornate palanquin. It was gold with various precious stones gleaming in the sunshine, all openings were covered by curtains of royal purple, and it was carried by six bearers who swayed with the practiced rhythm of dance so as not to upset the elaborate chair. It was brought to the very base of the gangplank and a pudgy eunuch stepped forward.

Bowing he offered up a hand, Bruce watched with intense curiosity as the purple curtains parted and a slim white hand exited. He gazed in fascination as the servant took the hand and two serving girls rushed seamlessly forward to draw back the drapes.

By severe contrast a plainly dressed girl exited the glittering cage. She stood for a moment surveying the ship, allowing him (and the crew) to take in her appearance.

She wore a brown wool dress which was horribly out of fashion and did absolutely nothing to emphasize her beauty. The dress itself was completely devoid of embellishments with a high, stiff neckline and long sleeves that appeared poorly tailored and too tight. The bodice was ill fitting and the skirt hung heavy and limp. But she stood tall and proud as if she were decked out like a queen. When she had stepped down he saw a glimpse of rough brown boots that looked more suited to a man than a young girl.

He desperately wished he could see her face, to gage her reaction and feeling upon arrival, but sadly she wore a veil of red gauze over her head that completely hid her features except for a foggy silhouette and a portion of rich raven hair that fell down her back to her hips.

Reaching out her arm once more the eunuch helped his mistress as she gracefully climbed the gangplank, followed by an army of servants and palace guards.

Bruce felt a moment of panic. Did they all think they were coming along? Because that simply would not be the case.

Once on deck she turned first this way and that, trying to take in every detail from behind her modest veil. Her face was more visible from this distance and he could see a faint glimpse of blue eyes and a smiling mouth, though a true depiction of her was still impossible.

He stepped forward to greet her, but was cut off by a short man with a large beard that looked to take up his whole face and a bald head that reflected the sun in an almost blinding way. The man was even shorter then she was but spoke with the authority of one who knows his business and will not be deterred.

Speaking quickly, the little man began.

"Captain Wayne, it is my pleasure to present the Princess Amira, cherished daughter of his Majesty the high and mighty Sultan Garsiv of Dagra and his first wife Nura, jewel of the palace and ruler of the harem."

Upon hearing her name the girl turned from her visual exploration and faced him. She was tall, possibly 5 foot 6 or even 7, and he had reason to believe that she would grow taller still.

 _She will be quite a match for the petite beauties of London._ Bruce thought.

The servant immediately turned from Bruce as if he was an insignificant servant below himself and not a gentleman of nobility and fortune. Bowing deeply he addressed the _Princess_ in a quick flurry of words in his foreign tongue with such speed that Bruce had no hope of following them, but clearly by the entourage's reactions this was actually no great feat and was merely the norm of conversation.

Bruce Wayne was a fine student of language and had mastered several including the classics of Greek and Latin, but at this moment he felt himself a mere novice and felt a keen desire to renew his studies at the soonest convenience.

He was brought out of thought however by the multitude of eyes now turned toward him. He realized that they were all watching him expectantly but he was at a loss as to what it was for.

The seconds dragged by painfully as the girl's entourage continued to stare him down and even his own crew began to look at him with insistency. Then his eye caught sight of a serving girl standing behind and to the side of her mistress who watched him with a sympathetic gaze.

She made a little motion of a bow and understanding hit him. They were waiting for him to greet her. He was not one given to lowering himself before others (save the Queen.), but he had also been trained all his life in the manners of his society, which stressed almost more than any other the respect and niceties of treating a lady.

So he bowed from the waist with dignity and a straight back, heels clipped together and raised himself proudly to look her in the eye.

From the sour pout on the mustached face of the servant he had a feeling his bow had not been low enough. From the look in the man's eyes he would have preferred for Bruce to fall to his knees and kiss the boards beneath the girl's feet, but that wasn't going to happen.

If there had been a lack of respect she didn't seem to notice and spoke excitedly and rapidly to the servant who turned to convey her words to the Captain.

"My lady wishes to thank you for your hospitality in allowing her a tour of your vessel. She says she has long desired to visit an English ship and is most grateful for this opportunity."

Bruce stared in complete shock.

 _A tour? My hospitality? Mother of God she doesn't know!_

Up until that moment he had been led to believe that his being there was entirely her idea. That it was her desire to return to England and that she was looking forward to the event with great anticipation.

 _Another lie._ He thought bitterly.

Bruce would have told her right then and there the true purpose of his being there, but with no small amount of frustration he deduced that whatever he said his words would be twisted by the slimy little interpreter before reaching her ears.

This also presented a second problem that he had considered but had not sufficiently planned for. She didn't speak English. He himself was an adequate instructor and had held little doubt in his ability to teach her enough to communicate until a proper teacher could be procured back in England. But how would he explain things to her now, when she would have no understanding of him.

He contemplated this as he led her and her servants around the craft on a tour, for he had seen no way out of that one and decided it would afford him the opportunity to study her and find a solution to this very real problem.

Then another dilemma. Was he wrong and she correct? Was this all really a hoax invented so a child could live out a dream of walking on deck an English ship? Had the Sultan never intended of giving her back? How could he keep her safe and with him? He had no ability to take on a ruler but he had come here with one goal and the determination to see it achieved.

They had toured the decks, crew quarters, galley, the hold, wheelhouse, and a small dining room used by officers and captain, and were now finishing off in the Captain's cabin.

For the whole process Amira had enthusiastically kept up a steady stream of questions which her translator dutifully relayed. Her joy in this whole experience was unmatched and even through her veil her face glowed with happiness.

The captain's cabin was by far the most luxurious section of the ship, but by no means was it ostentatious. There was a desk with various papers and charts spread across it in pleasant disarray, a bed underneath a small window, a privacy screen against the far wall next to another door that didn't warrant any notice, and a small dining table in the center of the room.

She immediately began to examine a large world map that hung over the desk, completely ignoring the rest of them.

Rashad, which Bruce had learned was the translator's name, clapped his hands commandingly and a girl stepped forward with a tray holding two goblets filled with wine. Rashad picked up one and handed it to Bruce and then said something to Amira who turned from her exploration and took the second glass.

She raised the goblet to Bruce and spoke sweetly in her foreign dialect. Rashad turned to translate.

"The Princess wants to once again thank you for your kindness and whishes you a safe journey home."

With a sinking feeling Bruce raised his glass as she did hers in toast and took a sip of the sweet tasting wine.

She placed the cup back on the tray and he did likewise whilst she once again looked around the room, moving to the window to peer out at the bustle on the dock below.

Bruce decided that come hell or high water he was taking this girl home. He would tell her why he was here and how she had been misled and make Rashad tell her word for word what he had said.

With a furrowed brow and determined set face he stepped forward to tell her the truth, but he didn't get the chance.

He watched with worry as she put a hand to her forehead and held out the other to steady herself. She began to sway and he moved to keep her from falling. She didn't notice his advance but instead sat down on his bed before slumping slightly and falling back on the pillows, completely unconscious.

Bruce was stunned.

"What have you done to her!?" He demanded, ready to wring the servant's stubby neck.

"It was necessary; she will not sleep long."

Without missing a beat, Rashad clapped his hands and the servants sprang into action. Moving with speed they brought in a large western trunk and discreetly set it in a corner of the cabin and then just as quickly exited the room. He could hear their footsteps as they exited the boat. All that remained was himself, the unconscious Princess, Rashad, and one servant girl who clutched an ornate little chest that was elaborately decorated with ivory and jewels and rested on delicate golden feet.

The servant girl moved toward him swiftly and held out the chest. He had little choice but to take it in his hands and listened while in a quiet voice the girl spoke to him.

Bruce turned to Rashad for an interpretation only to find the man glowering venomously at the servant who studied her toes in obvious fear of him. It was Obvious to Bruce that the delivery of this chest had not been a part of Rashad's plans. With poorly concealed fury Rashad managed to relay the servant's words to him.

"Her name is Fawzia, she begs you to give this gift to the Princess. It is from her lady." Rashad hissed through clenched teeth and as soon as he had finished giving the message he barked something viciously at the servant whose face paled and quickly exited the room, bowing all the way.

With the offender gone Rashad regained his dignity and handed Captain Wayne a piece of rolled parchment.

"This will explain all to her once she awakens."

And with that he left, and Bruce was glad to see him go.

He stood frozen for a moment, debating his next course of action.

 _We need to get out of here._ He decided.

He carefully put the chest down with the trunk and then made sure that the girl was situated comfortably on his bed so as to not fall off. His heart constricted with sympathy for her and the terrible shock she was sure to endure upon waking.

He exited the cabin and gently closed the door. Then climbing the stairs two at a time, he made his way to the deck.

"GRAYSON!" he bellowed and his first mate appeared by his side.

"Yes Captain?"

"Get this ship out of here now! I want as much space between us and that accursed Sultan as possible."

John Grayson was a good man and did not need to be given his orders twice. Immediately he got the crew going, lifting the anchor and setting sail. Climbed the twisted rope ladder, he let down the sail. John had the ability of an acrobat and had never once feared heights.

Bruce took the wheel and personally steered the ship out of the harbor.

 _That sniveling coward._ He thought with righteous anger. _He never even told her_.

 _Amira_

Amira felt her eyelids heavy as she tried to open them. Slowly she sat up on the bed and tried to focus on the floor before her, shaking the heavy fog from her mind.

At first she forgot where she was and looked curiously around the small room with its wood paneled walls and odd furnishings.

Suddenly her memory cleared and she looked around in confusion.

 _Where is everyone? What happened?_

"Rasheed...? Fawzia...? Anyone?"

She stood and nearly fell as the ship swayed.

Steadying herself with the back of a chair, she turned to the window and her confusion turned to panic as she saw the shoreline rapidly disappearing behind them.

 _I am being kidnapped!_ She thought in horror. _Oh why, oh why, did I ever ask to come to this ship._

Regret immediately welled up in her young heart as her mind scrambled for an escape.

Looking back out the small glass she judged the distance from the ship to shore.

 _I can swim it. Besides, if I can get close enough a fishing boat could pick me up!_

Slamming her hand to the wood panel in decision she began to hastily discard her many layers of clothing.

 _I can't go swimming in all of this I'll drown!_

Tearing at the long row of buttons with a fury, she finally used her strength to pull at the seam and heard the sound of wood buttons clinking to the floor and the sound of tearing fabric. She also felt an instant relief from restriction as she cast the garment to the side and began to unlace the boorish contraption that had been used to bind her breasts.

Throwing the corset on the ground she took in a great gulp of air and kicked off the cumbersome boots. Having done that, she pulled off the various petticoats and stockings for she had the feeling she would need to run and slipping would ruin her whole plan.

Standing in just a thin chemise and pantalets, it was still far more covering then anything she normally wore so she felt no embarrassment at being so whorishly immodest.

Glancing once more through the window, she saw that in such a short time the distance between the boat and shore had nearly doubled.

Throwing her veil away she bolted for the door.

Tearing it open with a vengeance she took to the stairs and with the speed of a freed tiger ran across the deck.

She could hear voices raised in alarm as she reached the deck and looked frantically about for an exit.

Thankfully the crew was so startled at the sight of this barely dressed teenager that they failed to react in time.

She recognized the sound of the Captains voice and looked up to see him running down the short stair that led to the wheel.

 _Bruce,_

"STOP!" Bruce hollered and watched as the girl halted her chase and looked back at him.

He made his way swiftly down to where she stood, but he should have moved quicker. He saw determination in her azure eyes as they slanted quickly to the side of the ship and then her lips curled into an eager smile.

 _You wouldn't!_ he thought.

She would.

Like a wild animal she took off, dodging sailors who attempted to grasp her in their clutches. Swiftly she made her way to the railing, leapt to the top and without even a glance back dove over the side with the grace of a skilled swimmer.

Bruce and the crew ran to the side, convinced she had just committed suicide.

To his great relief he saw her head surface as she began making long, even strokes, gliding through the water with impressive speed.

 _What sort of woman is this?_

 _Amira_

The cool water made her gasp, but she wasted no time in beginning her swim.

 _I am coming Ami, I am coming._

She felt the pantalets begin to fill with water and slow her down. Frustrated, she wriggled out of them and let them sink to the bottom of the sea without a second thought.

Her lifting spirits froze at the sound of water splashing behind her.

Cheers and hollers rose from the sailors, which only increased her worry and made her swim more vigorously then before.

She felt a strong arm wrap around her waist and pull her back.

Panic mixed with rage as she fought to be free. Kicking and clawing, she screamed at her captor.

 _Let me go! Let me go! I have to get home, Ami, I have to get home!_

 _Ship_

He struggled to hold on to her as she fought him.

The men had already lowered a ladder down the side of the boat and he began to swim towards it, dragging her with him.

As he pulled her back however she increased her fight. Kicking him with her legs and pulling at his hair, in an attempt to rip it from his head.

Realizing that if she didn't stop there was a good chance they would both drowned he pushed her head under the water.

Immediately she stopped fighting him and began fighting the water to resurface. Pulling her back up he swiftly pulled her to the ladder as she gasped for air and coughed up sea water.

Shifting her over his shoulder he began to climb the swaying ladder.

Amira continued to fight, pounding her fists against his back and trying to wriggle free and drop back into the water below, it was no use.

Once back on deck Bruce carried her with long pounding strides back down to the cabin. Amira was just able to glimpse the shore line which almost completely disappeared in the distance and knew that there would be no escape for her.

Once in the cabin Bruce slammed the door and dropped the girl to the floor and she backed away like a scared cat.

Turning the key in the lock, hearing the sound of the bolt in the door. He hung the key around his neck and turned back to his would be escapee.

She stood in the center of the room dripping a river of water on the rug. Her wet raven hair lay plastered against her face and she shivered with cold. He had to admit that even in her disheveled state she was a beauty. With a long thin neck that held her head high and proud. Her skin was flawless and her complexion the envy of ever woman he had ever met. Her eyes were large and clear, the most stunning shade of azure and rimmed with thick black lashes that were so long as to begin to curl back on themselves. But her eyes viewed him with intense suspicion and outrage. Her red mouth was downturned in anger but was still exquisite. Her cheekbones were high and sleek like carved from marble and her nose was straight and noble.

A memory of her grandmother came to his mind's eye and Bruce acknowledged that there could be no mistaking the similarities.

Her shivering had increased and her teeth now chattered from cold. Moving to a chest at the foot of his bed he opened it and pulled forth a large white cotton towel and threw it in her direction. Instinctively she caught it but instead of gratitude her eyes blazed with the blue fire of insult. Her black eyebrows swooped down towards her eyes and she threw the towel back in his face, crossing her eyes arms against the cold.

He wasn't aware of the fact but Amira had never been touched by a man before, at least not a proper man, and she was unbearably insulted at his throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of feed.

Bruce let out a frustrated sigh and had to check his own temper. With powerful strides he crossed the room and towered above her. He saw fear leap into her eyes but she quickly squashed it down and met his glare with haughty disapproval.

Taking her hand in his he put the towel back in it and forced her fingers closed around it.

She wanted to throw it in his face but he still held her hand captive in his. All she could do was glower at him with all the hatred she possessed.

Taking an arm he pointed toward the privacy screen against the far wall and commanded.

"Get in the bath."

She looked at him with no understanding.

 _Obviously you fool she doesn't speak English._

Taking her roughly by the arm he marched her farther back into the cabin so she could see the tub that was bolted to the floor behind the screen. He had ordered the men to boil the water whilst she slept and while he wrestled her in the sea they had filled the tub to the brim with hot water. Pointing once more he repeated.

"Get in the tub."

She looked at the bath and then wrenched her arm free from his grasp, and clutching the towel to her chest backed into the corner away from the tub. Then with the defiance of a toddler held out the towel and dropped it to the floor.

She was a Princess, she would not be dictated to by a sailor, and she most certainly would not bathe with him present.

Bruce was normally a relatively patient man but he had no tolerance for such childish tantrums.

With one swift move he picked her up and marched to the tub. She screamed in protest but he ignored her cries. Holding out over the tub he tried to drop her into the water.

Amira however was not giving up without a fight. Digging her nails into its edge she wedged herself atop the tub and used her feet and arms to keep herself from being forced into the water.

 _That's it, no more!_ Thought Bruce.

And taking a large hand he put it over her head and pushed her down into the water like a cat he would wish to drown.

Water splashed over the sides soaking the floor and pale arms and legs flailed from the vat scratching at his arm and kicking.

He pulled her out by her hair and she coughed and sputtered for breathe. But before she could fully fill her lungs he pushed her down again. This time she quite fighting him and instead just tried to surface her head so she could breath.

Taking his hand away she burst from the churning water with a great cry and her chest heaved as she gulped down air.

She panted and glared at him with pure loathing but he just threw a bar of soap into the tub and walked to the other side of the screen allowing her some privacy.

Angrily Amira decided to do as she was told and took off the once again soaked chemise. Using the soap she washed herself and then sat in the warm water with her knees pulled to her chest, resting her chin on top of them.

 _What am I going to do? Where is he taking me, why is he taking me? I wonder if he hurt Rasheed or Fawzia. I feel so stupid I should have never asked to come here._

As her temper cooled fear took its place and Amira thought of what her poor mother would do when she didn't return.

She sat in the bath for so long the water turned cold. She looked around for the towel before remembering with regret that she had thrown it down on the other side of the room.

 _Brilliant Amira what are you going to use now?_

Just then the screen shook slightly and Amira looked up to see the towel being laid over top of it, along with another dress that looked like the chemise but longer and with longer sleeves.

Climbing out of the tub she dried off and put on the dress and discovered that it wasn't made of rough wool but of soft cotton, a nice change.

 _Where did this come from? Are there more women on this ship? How many has he stolen?_

Using the towel she tried to dry her hair but discovered that it was now a mass of tangles. She tried to smooth it by ripping the knots apart with her fingers but it was time consuming and she never fully managed to get them all.

Taking a deep breathe she tried to steady her nerves which felt raw and shaky.

Stepping out from behind the screen she saw the captain waiting for her. He was dressed in dry clothes now and Amira took a moment to study his appearance.

He was very tall, she guessed about 6 foot 3. He was muscular with broad shoulders and thick arm. Amira felt her cheeks grow warm as she looked him over. His hair was jet black and his eyes light blue. His face was angular and most handsome with a strong jaw and defined chin and cheek bones. His mouth was set in a straight line and it led her to believe that this was a serious man who was not prone to laughter.

She knew she should feel afraid of him and even though his face appeared harsh and cold his eyes looked at her with pity and concern.

He pulled out a chair for her at the small dining table and she reluctantly sat down. He sat across from her and produced a comb from somewhere and slid it across the table to her.

Gratefully she took it and began to brush through her curls. He seemed very nervous and in spite of herself she felt sorry for that before she reminded herself that this barbarian had kidnapped her and she should feel nothing but scorn and derision for him.

Bruce waited patiently as she brushed her damp locks, never breaking eye contact with him and he felt sorry for fear he saw there. This was not how things were supposed to have gone.

 _How am I going to explain it to her when she can't understand me? Poor girl probably thinks I have kidnapped her._

Then he remembered the scroll Rasheed had given him. Standing he retrieved it and returned to his seat across the table from her. Holding the parchment to her she looked at it quizzically and hesitantly laid aside the comb in exchange for the scroll.

She unrolled it and he caught a glimpse of the Arabic script as she read it intently.

 _To the Princess Amira,_

 _It is for your own good that you are being sent away. The people who you are going to in England are rich and powerful and will welcome you with great happiness. You are English and it is time you returned to them. You will be missed, but this is necessary and I have judged it so. Do not write or attempt to make any form of contact with Nura or any other member of palace or the consequence served to them will be most severe._

 _I know you will be angry with me for this my child, but in time you will see that it is for the best. Your English family has paid handsomely for your return and you can rest assured that you have helped with the safe guarding of the kingdom from the demon's head._

 _His Majesty the most magnificent and high lord, Sultan Garsiv of Dagra._

She put down the letter and sat in disbelief.

 _He didn't kidnap me, he was sent for me. The Sultan…sold me…sent me away from my moth-_

With a snap she stood. Bruce stood also in case she tried to run again for even though the door was locked he didn't want to underestimate her.

She didn't run though but continued to stare at the paper that lay on the desk.

 _How could he do it…HOW COULD HE!_

Bruce spoke, he knew she couldn't understand him, but he hoped she would recognize the tone of sympathy in his words.

"I am so sorry, I know you don't know what I am saying, but I hope you can comprehend that I am sorry."

To his absolute shock, she replied.

"I can speak English." Her voice was heavily accented but clear. In fact her unique pronunciation gave his native tongue an elegance that he had to admit it didn't possess on its own.

"Why didn't you say so?"

She looked at him with challenging eyes.

"I did not wish to offend anyone or misunderstand with my lack of knowledge about your language."

Bruce nodded at her diplomatic appraisal.

"That explains the interpreter."

She didn't even nod for she had returned her attention to the letter.

 _Why is this happening, why is he doing this? England?_

"The Sultan says you are taking me to England."

"Yes, I am taking you back to your family."

She dropped the paper to the floor and turned to look at him with a deathly pale face.

"I have no family." She said, asking him to confirm this.

Bruce steeled himself for the unpleasant task of exposing the Sultan's lies. He motioned for her to sit again. Once seated he decided to start by asking her a few questions.

"Why don't you tell me what you know about yourself."

Steading her shaking hands she looked him in the eye with a confidence she was trying desperately to keep from shattering.

"My name is Princess Amira of Dagra, I am 16 years old and my adopted mother is Nura, wife of the Sultan."

Bruce breathed a small sigh of relief.

"So you know that Nura is not your mother."

The young girl gave a look of annoyance.

"Anyone with eyes would know that."

Bruce nodded seriously and motioned for her to continue.

"I do not know the name of the woman who bore me, but I remember she had yellow hair, when I was three years old she brought me to the palace and begged Nura to take me and raise me, she could not feed me and was ill, she probably died not long after, but she wanted me to have a better life so she gave me to the Sultan and his wife."

Bruce raised his eyebrows at this completely falsified account but Amira mistook his look as one of interest and continued proudly in her tale.

"I hold great respect for the woman. When I was a young child I overheard a slave talking about a foreign woman and child, when I questioned my Ami about it she told me that she was an English woman who had come to our kingdom much like Shayera's mother had and that she was the woman who had given birth to me, but that I was the child that Allah had given my Ami. So I determined to fulfill her wish for me to live well and decided to honor her by learning how to speak and read English."

Amira became quieter and her eyes took on a faraway look. In a voice barely above a whisper she finished.

"That is why I wanted to see your ship…I wanted to meet her countrymen."

"You wanted to feel close to her, for only a moment."

She nodded her head sadly before turning back to him with poorly concealed anxiety.

"Why are you taking me to England?"

He tried to sound gentle.

"I am taking you back to your family. That story you just told, it isn't true, none of it, I am sorry."

He could tell that she wished for him to be the liar, and he could clearly see her confusion and pain etched on her face.

He decided that it was best to put it all out in the open.

"Your name, is Lady Diana Princeton, and it is true that your birthday passed but recently, however you are 15 years old not 16."

She did not respond verbally but he saw her eyes widen slightly and her lips part slightly in surprise.

"Your mother's name was Hippolyta Lennox Princeton."

In spite of herself she leaned forward at the first mention she had ever heard of her mother's name.

"Your father, Zachary Princeton, 7th Duke of Hever. When you were almost two your parents decided to take a voyage and brought you along. But there was a terrible storm off the coast of Dagra, the captain thought the ship would sink and placed you and your parents in a life boat bound for shore. However the ship capsized and your parents became separated. Eventually your father made it back to the ship which by some decree of providence did not sink after all, but you and your mother were gone."

The young girl had leaned forward even farther now completely absorbed in the tale, so much so that she forgot it was about her.

"Your father searched for weeks up and down the coast. When he visited the Sultan and asked if there had been any news of your mother and you the Sultan led him to a room where your mother's body was being prepared for burial. She had been found but died not long after her rescue. When he asked about you the Sultan said that there had been no trace of you. You were very young so the Duke never questioned the legitimacy of the report and simply took your mother's coffin back with him to England."

Amira was in shock. This was a wonderful tale but surely it couldn't be true, it couldn't be about her, this man was lying! She had no father, her mother hadn't died in a storm at sea, she had asked Nura to care for and raise her…he was lying!

"Several months ago your family received word that you were alive and wished to return. Obviously there was some skepticism, after all it had been 13 years. But it was explained that upon seeing you the Sultan's wife had desired you for her own and convinced her husband to lie to your father about your survival."

Amira sat back in her chair with a jolt, and her face held the same look as a child who has been slapped and they don't understand the reason.

"She stole you Diana."

That was too far.

She leapt to her feet and quickly put the chair between him and herself.

"Liar!...You're a Liar!...Nura didn't steal me, my mother gave me to her…for me….f-for a better life…your lying!"

Her voice quivered and hot tears burned in her eyes.

 _It can't be true, It can't be true…my life isn't a lie…I am the daughter of a Sultan, the daughter of Nura…IT ISN'T TRUE!_

But she knew it was. Garsiv's letter confirmed it, along with countless questions and examples from her childhood that could never be satisfied with answers, now they all suddenly fell into place. Yes deny it all she willed, it was true, and she knew it.

Bruce stood as well and reached out, but she recoiled from him as if he were a snake.

Backing herself into his desk she accidently knocked over several books and papers.

The sound made her jump and she began to fidget and look about the confined space nervously as her mind tried to adjust itself to this new reality and accept that the old one had been a lie.

"Diana please listen, your family is very happy you are coming home, you are going to have a wonderful life."

She brought her hands to the sides of her face as her thoughts raced.

 _Family? Who are they? Coming home…Dagra is my home, the palace is my home, Nura is my home…Ami, please I want to go back…_

She wanted desperately to go back. Back to yesterday, when she knew who she was, who loved her, and when the world made sense.

"Diana…"

Furious she turned on him.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

He didn't even blink in the face of her rage.

Angrily she punched her fists into his strong chest.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

"Diana," he said again in a calm voice, the sooner she accepted it the easier it would be.

"STOP! Listen to me that is not my name, do you hear me!? THAT—IS—NOT MY NAME!"

She stopped her attack and backed away. Drawing herself to her fool height she tried to look confident and commanding, but she only looked like a little girl who was frightened beyond reason.

"I am Princess Amira of Dagra."

"Diana." He said once more and she slammed her palms down on the table causing it to shake. Tears streamed down her cheeks from her azure eyes and she looked at him pleadingly, silently begging him to take it back.

To say she was right and she was who she said she was.

That this was all a bad dream and would end.

"How dare you…..I AM A PRINCESS!" She cried.

"No, you're not…you are Lady Diana Princeton, and I am taking you home."

She looked at him as all hope drained from her face.

Swiftly he walked to her and forgetting propriety held her to his chest as she dissolved in tears.

 _Palace Harem, Kingdom of Dagra_

Shayera climbed the last of the narrow stone stairs up the tower.

Her feet felt heavy and her heart was in pain.

As she crested the top she looked up and saw a million stars winking at her in silver majesty.

Shayera had always thought that the stars looked like heaven's tears, and tonight they shone more brightly than ever.

Slowly raising her hand she clasped it around a strand of priceless pearls that hung about her neck.

The whole palace was shrouded in the peaceful darkness of night, but she could not sleep. How could she, when everything had changed?

Nura had locked herself away in her rooms and refused all entry.

Shayera took her free hand and roughly brushed away the tears that had begun to fall against her will.

A soft breeze flew by and she lifted her face to the sea. Even in darkness she could see the moon reflecting off its majestic surface. All her life she had loved the sight of it, it had calmed her, symbolized the freedom she so desired…but she knew she could never look at it again with anything but hatred.

Hatred for the sister she had lost, the sister who had been stolen away from her and sold across the sea.

This time the tears flowed down her face and she didn't try to stop them. It hurt…it hurt so much…why her?...why her sister?...why was it always the ones she loved?

 _Amira…please comeback…_

It was foolishness, she knew life could never return to what it was.

With sobs chocking her she felt the pearls again. She ran her fingers up and down the strand, feeling the smooth jewels against her skin.

Then with all the strength she had she pulled on the necklace.

The string broke and the precious pearls that had been a gift from a most beloved sister bounced away down the stone façade. Taking the pearls in her fists she flung them at the far off sea and yelled.

"TAKE THEM! JUST LIKE YOU'VE TAKEN EVERYTHING ELSE!"

Then, the poor child of only 17 fell to the floor, and cried.


	4. Chapter 3: Lady Diana

**So Sorry for the long wait.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed I really appreciate it.**

 **Please Review!**

 **Chapter 3: Lady Diana**

 _The Knight's Revenge, May 1843_

Diana tried to pry her eyes open but they were heavy and weighted down, feeling gritty and blurred by a film of fog.

Her head ached and it was relieving to actually give up on the unpleasant task and seal her lids once more.

In that wistful state between asleep and awake her imagination took over and roamed her mind for new threads to spin.

It began its work and with a rush the events of yesterday came crashing down on her with such force that she bolted upright in fright.

It had all happened, it wasn't a bad dream, it had been real. Instead of being safe and happy with her mother in the palace she was on a ship. Headed to a faraway country that she had no concrete knowledge of, to a family she hadn't known existed.

Swinging her legs over the side of the low bunk she looked about the room.

More of a closet really, it was only as long as her bunk and not much wider. There was a window of sorts at the end of the room directly across from the door and the brown wood of the ship was the only color to be seen besides the beige bedding. The only other item in the room was a trunk under the window. It was a far cry from the splendor and luxury that had surrounded her every day for the past 13 years.

 _13 years of lies…_ She thought bitterly, and then another memory came to mind. _I am 15, not 16. An entire year of my life that I thought I had lived doesn't exist, like it was stolen._

That summoned up her feelings on the whole situation perfectly. Stolen, her life had been stolen from her. Once when she was a toddler and again now. Stolen and ridden with lies.

She found she didn't mind that last part as much as the fact that she was no longer allowed to live as if the lies were true.

She stood a bit unsteadily, feeling the boat move slightly beneath her feet. She wondered how long it would take to become used to walking on water.

Driven by curiosity she decided to open the trunk and looked inside. After fiddling with the clasps and struggling a bit with the heavy lid she managed to uncover the contents and looked in disappointment at two small piles of clothing.

One stack was of various underclothes and in the other stack were three dresses that were almost identical to the one she had discarded the day before. They were of different colored dyed wool and to her eyes appeared horrendously uncomfortable. And on top of all the articles rested that awful body cage laurel had called a corset that she had torn off yesterday.

 _Laurel!_

So the seamstress had made her a whole wardrobe for her journey.

 _Looks like they thought of everything._

She let the lid drop with a bang and stood.

Not wanting to think again of the Sultan's betrayal she turned to the door and threw it open. She stepped through and found herself in the captain's cabin.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

She entered and glanced about. The Captain didn't seem to be there so she began to investigate and try to discern what kind of man he was. Despite the trauma of the whole situation she couldn't deny her overwhelming curiosity about him. He was the first Englishman she had ever met and would therefore be the standard by which she measured all the rest, whether for good or bad.

She crossed the floor swiftly, the sound of her bare feet tapping against the boards echoed through the space.

It was much larger than her hovel of a room; she found she resented him for that. As she looked through his belongings she found everything in impeccable order without as much as a hair out of place. The books on the shelf were arranged meticulously by height, the desk and table's surfaces were clear of any form of clutter, the rug was smoothed and placed directly beneath the table with great precision, and the bed was made with the skill and neatness of an army officer.

 _What a bore._ She thought as she observed this sanctuary of order.

She gathered from the surroundings that he was a serious man who valued regularity and uniformity. He was neat and tidy and appeared to leave nothing to chance or laziness.

It was beginning to seem that he was a hollow drudge. She read the book titles in her uneasy English and found none of them very intriguing. They seemed to be works of science, philosophy, and language. She would have much preferred novels or poetry to such drab volumes of learning.

She looked back over the desk trying to find something that would offer her a glimpse into this austere man's intimate character.

Her eyes grazed over various metal instruments all lined up superbly and a small stack of neatly arranged letters. She was sorely tempted to read those notes but didn't for fear that he would be able to tell if anything had been moved, for she knew she could never successfully replace them in such a restricted order.

At the end of the desk she did find something however that grabbed her full attention.

There rested a small portrait in a silver frame. Curiosity unbridled, she picked it up in order to examine it closer.

The artist had been a master, the pair staring back at her through the frame looked so lifelike that she imagined she could see their breathe gather on the glass.

It was a picture of a couple, they were dressed quite oddly in her opinion but she fancied it was the normal fashion for the English. The man was walking beside the woman, leading her gently by the arm and looking back at her with loving eyes. He was much taller than she, with dark hair and a mustache. He wore a suit jacket of green and trousers of white, at his neck was tied an elaborate bow that was also white. The woman looked directly out of the portrait with a gentle smile on her pink lips, her hair was a much lighter brown with streaks of gold. Her gown gathered under her bust and hung straight with little puffed sleeves, it was of a powdery blue edged with silver. From the bottom of her skirt peaked out a small white slipper.

They looked happy and in love. Diana lost herself in thought imagining who they were, what they were like.

Just then the sound of steadily nearing footsteps reached her ears.

Quickly she replaced the picture and raced to the table, just managing to sit down as the lock turned in the door. Hurriedly she arranged her features into a mirror of picturesque sinlessness just in time to great the large man who entered holding a silver tray.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the sight of the calm young lady in his cabin, seating serenely at the table with her hands folded elegantly in her lap and an innocent smile on her pretty face.

He walked forward placing the tray before her on the table. Never breaking eye contact, and keeping his face in its normal stern, firm, setting he moved past her to the desk and slightly adjusted the frame a quarter of an inch.

Her tranquil exterior melted away as she crossed her arms and slouched, a contemptuous scowl marring her countenance.

So, not only was he stiff as a board and neat as a pin she concluded that he was also, unfortunately, as observant as a money lender during collection.

He walked back to the table and greeted her with a small bow, not nearly as deep as the one yesterday she noted with offense. She had already forgotten the change in her status and was unaware of the fact that this was a normal greeting of pleasant people in England and that he was trying to accustom her to its practice.

"Good morning Diana."

She did not so much as nod in his direction, but that name stuck in her throat like a stone. Instead she raised her chin into the air with defiant pride and starred regally at the wall past his head.

Seemingly undisturbed by her rudeness he took his place at the table and began to uncover the various dishes on the tray.

The smell of sausages wafted to her nose as the steam rose from the plates, making her stomach growl in response.

He eyed her amusedly and set a large portion of the food in front of her and then commenced to enjoy his breakfast.

She was angry that this undeserving foreigner hadn't taken notice of her martyred refusal of food, but it did smell tempting, and she was starving!

She hadn't eaten since the morning before and now she was so ravenous that even this bland fair of what she assumed was typical English cuisine looked good.

Her resolve crumbling she began to eat with gusto, shoveling food into her mouth with impressive speed.

She completely ignored the silverware, not understanding its purpose and not caring to discover it.

Bruce was knowledgeable of this foreign practice of eating with one's hands so the sight of it wasn't shocking. In fact, he was impressed at how immaculately clean she was able to keep herself during the process, but it did bring to mind the massive amount of work they had to do to get her ready to meet her family. He knew they would be happy to see her in any state but Diana would feel uncomfortable and out of her element enough already without having to worry about her table manners.

For now though he decided to let her enjoy her meal in peace.

Diana devoured the last of the biscuits that she felt personally were hard enough to be used as projectiles and began to look around for a way to clean her hands. To her surprise she saw that there were no finger bowls but instead a piece of white cloth folded neatly on the table. Supposing it was better than nothing she vigorously wiped her fingers on the napkin but did not feel that her hands were sufficiently clean.

Looking across the table she noticed that the Captain was still eating his food and felt slightly embarrassed at being the first one finished.

They sat in silence for a time before she broke it with a most interesting yet unexpected question.

"Are you my father's servant?"

Bruce quickly swallowed his food and wiped his hands on the napkin, sensing that the meal was at an end, and answered her question, and prepared for many more.

"No."

He was prepared to explain the whole situation to her entirely but before he got a chance she blurted out a second inquiry, that was much more worrisome then the first.

"Are you his son then?"

Bruce looked at her in surprise, trying to recall anything that could have led her to believe he could be her brother.

"No, Diana, we have different surnames."

"What was your name again?"

"My name is Bruce Wayne, and yours is Diana Princeton. So you understand I am not your brother."

The teenager waved his statement away with nonchalant wisdom.

"Of course I understand that, you can't be my full brother. But perhaps are you his illegitimate son?"

She felt no embarrassment with this statement but only a slight annoyance at his ignorance of the meaning of her question, she just wanted to understand who he was.

Bruce however was shocked at her bluntness, ladies simply did not speak with such frankness.

"No, I am not an illegitimate son."

Diana's brow knitted in frustration as her agitation and uncertainty grew.

"Then who are you?"

"I am…"

She stood with a jerk knocking over the chair, her face was angry and the confusion she was feeling radiated of her person like heat.

"What are you doing here? Why hasn't my father come for me? You said he wanted me back why isn't he here?"

"Diana please if you would just calm down and listen…"

"NO! I don't know you nor can I trust you, we are not family!"

"In a way we are."

She stopped at that, interest replacing anger.

"We are, how?"

"Well not you and I directly, but your cousins are married to my distant cousins. Also our families have always been close."

Confusion was back.

"But why are you here? Why didn't my father come for me?"

Bruce sighed, this wasn't how he had wanted this conversation to begin.

Maneuvering his large frame through the confined space with surprising grace he managed to set her fallen chair back to rights.

"Diana please, sit down."

His voice was so kind and gentle that she felt herself being put at ease. He had such a soothing voice, deep and rich.

She sat down whilst he pushed in her chair for her. Walking slowly back to the other side of the table he took his seat once more. He was so tall that Diana noted that there was only a few inches between the top of his head and the room's low celling when he stood at his full height.

He clasped his hands in front of him on the polished table and stared at his fingers intently. Then he raised his piercing blue eyes to hers.

"Diana, your father is dead."

She tilted her head quizzically to the side as she pursed her lips in thought.

"He died five years ago, the doctors said it was his heart."

She didn't seem sad, but then Bruce reminded himself that she had no memory of the man and until just yesterday had absolutely no idea of his existence at all.

"But, you said I had a family in England. They want me back, that's what you said…if he's dead….who wants me?"

To reassure her he took her hand in his, this gesture was completely out of character for him but with all his reserved ways and steely demeanor Bruce Wayne hated to see any living thing suffer. She of course had no knowledge of the significance of this gesture but was only aware that for the second time in her life a man was touching her.

"Diana you do have a family, a large family, and they want you with them more than anything."

"Who?"

"Your mother had two sisters. An older half-sister Mary, and a younger full-sister Martha. You are going to live with your aunt Martha."

He retrieved a roll of parchment from the desk and handed it to her.

"This will help explain things, your Aunt Mary made it for you."

He helped her unroll the paper and hold down the edges. Mary had made an entire family tree for Diana to study, it looked quite detailed to Diana's eyes but she would have been surprised to learn of the massive amount of personal restraint Mary had to employ to keep from adding any unnecessary relatives that might hinder Diana's learning of those who were now going to be a part of her life.

Diana eagerly studied the ink lines and names, intensely curious of the people she saw written there, trying to imagine what they looked like, what they were like.

Bruce began to point to various characters and offer details to her mental depictions.

"Here is your grandmother, Diana Lennox, you were named after her."

She looked at the name in wonder, suddenly her name became special in her mind and the distaste she had held for it began to disappear.

"And here is her first husband Charles Chatsworth, Earl of Rothsburg, he was your Aunt Mary's father."

Diana nodded her head intently following his finger with her eyes as it moved along the lines.

"Now, Mary wed Captain Benjamin Lance and they have one daughter your cousin Dinah, she's 21. And she married my 3rd cousin once removed Oliver Queen, Marquess of Rolland. He is the heir to a Dukedom which means one day Dinah will be a Duchess."

That meant nothing to her and she wished he would stop slowing down the explanations with unimportant details.

"Who's that?"

"That is your grandfather, Edward Lennox, Viscount of Cheswick. He and your grandmother had two daughters first your mother, Hippolyta, here, and your Aunt Martha, here."

"Are these her children?" Diana asked eagerly.

"Yes, Martha married Jonathan Kent, Earl of Lonworth, and they had two children your cousins Clark, who is 24, and Caroline who is 9 but among the family she is called Kara."

"Why where there no children between them? Did my aunt not want more children?"

"No your aunt loves children, she and your uncle actually had several other children but none of them survived infancy."

"Why did none of my relations come with you?"

"When I left your Uncle Jonathan was seriously ill and Clark had to stay behind to help his mother care for him. I received word several weeks ago that he had died, I penciled in the date."

"So she is a widow now."

"Yes, Martha is now the Dowager Countess of Lonworth, your cousin Clark assumed the title of Earl upon his father's death and his wife Lois is now the Countess. Lois is actually my 3rd cousin and Oliver's 3rd cousin once removed."

"It is the same in Dagra, for the crown prince to inherit the sultan must first die. I find that sad, it must put significant strain on a relationship to know that your heir is only waiting for your death."

"I can assure you Diana that no amount of wealth or titles could make up for your cousin's loss of a father and I know that he would gladly trade it all to see him again."

Bruce's voice had turned stern and she felt badly. She hadn't meant to imply that this cousin of hers was without feeling she was just trying to find comparisons between a way of life she understood and one that was unfamiliar. Wanting to change the subject Diana pointed to another name on the list.

"Who is this?"

"This is your father's side of the family. As you can see you are the only daughter, of an only son, of an only son."

"Clark's father is dead so now he is an Earl and my father was a Duke and now he is dead so I am a Duke, yes?"

"I am afraid not. In England the eldest son inherits the title."

"But he did not have a son, see?"

She pointed to the paper as if all of this information was new to him too.

Putting a perfectly manicured nail down pointedly she made her case.

"No sons just one daughter, so that makes me a Duke."

Bruce felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as she raised her chin proudly and looked at the paper approvingly, confident in her own correctness.

"I am sorry but no. You have a title, as the daughter of a Duke you are a Lady, but your father's title has passed on to his closest male relative."

Diana's eyebrows swooped down like two black wings. Clearly she did not think much of this idea of male priority, though it was a concept she was all too familiar with. But she had hoped things might be different in England.

"And who might that be?" She commanded a bit sharply.

With all good grace Bruce showed her the offending persons on the parchment. She looked at the name with a critical eye. As if she could judge his character from the name and decide if he was indeed a worthy heir to the title that had passed her by.

"Elliot Hale, your 3rd cousin once removed."

"Only 23, a bit young to be a Duke zen."

Bruce didn't point out that only moments before she had felt more than ready for the role at the hardly ancient age of 15.

"He's a good deal older then I when I came into my inheritance." He said more to himself then her.

"And how old was that?"

He didn't even pretend to have heard her but simply continued on.

"You can see here that your father has three first cousins on your grandmother's side. They are the children of your great-aunt Adelaide. There are the Twins Artemis and Alexandra Troy both 69 and their younger brother Philip 51, the family calls him Zeus. He is an officer of her majesty's navy and has two daughters Donna 10, and Cassandra 7."

"Did the Twins not marry?"

"No they are the family's official maiden aunts. They don't care for men much, their brother included but his existence they at least suffer because he is family."

She had become quiet again listening halfheartedly as he continued his explanations like a professor in a school room.

"That concludes the living relatives, but if you are interested I can tell you about your Grandmother Diana's Greek relations…"

"Enough!" She interrupted.

He had thought they were making headway and that she might actually be enjoying learning her genealogy. But one look at her face showed every emotion she felt in a torrent mixture too complex to describe.

"You wanted to know who was waiting for you, and now you can see for yourself that you have a large family anticipating your return."

"I had a family…I had my mother's love, my sister's affections, friends, servants, and more relations then are written on that stupid piece of paper! I was happy."

She spoke her accent thickening with her desire to revert back to her old life.

"And now it has been snatched away from me and now I am going to people I don't know, in a culture I don't understand, leaving behind all those I love and a way of life I belong too and _you_ expect me to be happy about it!" She bit out venomously and the air became stale with her hatred.

Very calmly he rolled up the parchment and placed it back in its assigned place. Then he looked at her with serious, dutiful, frankness.

"No Diana, I do not expect you to be happy about it. But I do expect you to resign yourself to your future."

She turned her large azure eyes toward his and set her face into childlike resistance while a tear rolled down her perfect cheek.

"No…I do not want to go to your country."

He nodded his head understandably.

"I know, but you are going, and you had best prepare yourself. Nothing good comes from fighting the inevitable."


	5. Chapter 4: One Way or Another

**I am so sorry for the long leave of absence, school and the holiday's got me!**

 **Thank you to everyone for reading this story and I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't thanks for giving it a chance.**

 **Please Review!**

 **Chapter 4: One Way or Another**

 _The Knight's Revenge, June 1843_

"I WON'T! You cannot make me!"

Bruce Wayne considered himself a reasonable man, but with that said, his patients were wearing thin.

Three days! For three days she had been as obstinate as humanly possible.

Everything he tried to teach her she threw back in his face.

She refused to learn proper table manners, didn't even attempt to participate in the history lessons he had prepared, locked herself in her room on several occasions, and most worrying of all she had begun to refuse food. Declaring it unfit for human consumption and had even gone so far as to throw a biscuit at the porthole to see if it would crack…it hadn't.

And now this latest power struggle was in regard to her attire.

She still wore the nightgown he had given her the first night and staunchly defied his demands that she exchange it for more proper arraignment.

"Diana, you will get dressed, or you will not be allowed to go up on deck."

Fire blazed in her eyes as she drew herself up to her full height. Regal pride commanding every movement as she raised her chin in the air with authority.

"You cannot tell me what to do! I am 15 years old, I am no child!"

Bruce's countenance remained serious and checked.

"No, you are not a child. But you are not an adult either."

Her face pinched in anger and he could see the calculations in her eyes as she scrambled for the upper hand.

He watched as her eyes snapped with decision and a slight glow of success crept into her flushed cheeks.

With the grace of a gentleman he waited for her to speak.

"Well, I am a Lady, you said so yourself. And you are but a ship's captain, therefore I outrank you. So you must do as I say!"

This time he arched an eyebrow at her remarks.

The longer he waited to respond to her assumptions the more she began to doubt herself and he could see her twitch with uncertainty.

Concealing his own impatient behind a mask of unreadable indifference he once again explained to her what he viewed to be a rather elementary fact.

"I am responsible for you and I will not allow you to tramps about on deck in such a state of undress."

"I am not ashamed!"

"But my crew will be. You are from a good family who have entrusted you to my care, and until I am able to safely return you to them I will not permit the sullying of the good name you possess by letting every sailor on board ogle you like a common harlot."

This would have been a much more meaningful speech had she understood what the words sully and harlot meant.

In much plainer words he settled the matter, leaving no room for negotiation.

"You will not leave this cabin until you are properly dressed."

"BRUTE...SCOURGE…..Umm….UGH!"

Having exhausted her limited knowledge of English slurs she reverted to her native tongue.

Patiently he waited for her to finish, which somehow made him even more infuriating to her.

Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes. She blinked furiously trying to keep them at bay, silently cursing herself for allowing them to be there.

Why didn't he understand? Why didn't anyone care?

Seeing her distress Bruce became concerned.

What was the cause of the current tyrant, he had no idea. It seemed like a simple enough thing, getting dressed. But now his command had brought her from anger to near tears. And he felt himself unequipped to handle the situation.

How he wished her aunt or one of her many relations had been able to make the voyage. But they couldn't so here he was, attempting to reason with this outraged teenager.

His own childhood had been devoid of female influence, save the occasional uninterested servant. And in his youth he had been a shy and detached figure who rarely sought out the company of others, and even less so the company of girls. For his lack of knowledge of them made the process of social interaction painful and awkward.

By the time he left for university, though little used, he was well versed in all the niceties and old grandeur of the correct way to speak to and treat a lady. These skills having been imparted to him with a kind but unwavering hand since boyhood.

It was during this time that the introverted young man had his first interactions with those of the fairer sex, aside from a yearly visit to his cousins in London.

His natural gravitas and shy nature gave him an aloofness that the young ladies of society found extraordinarily appealing. That along with his formal manners and commanding figure, which was by no stretch of the imagination unattractive, availed him to the hearts and imaginations of all damsels in his presence.

He also found in time that he possessed a natural gift for the art of flirtation. He even came to enjoy the intricate game for it cut out the awkwardness of interaction and broke down the art of conversation into an easy to follow formula of flattery and implied insult.

Yes he was a master, if unintentionally, of capturing women's hearts. But as to the workings of the female mind he had no knowledge. And not the slightest ability of understanding the spirit of a beautiful 15 year old girl, who wants so desperately to be a woman, but is afraid of leave the safety of childhood behind.

At last she gave him the first glimpse as to her true thoughts.

"Why do you want to change me?"

Surprised at the accusation he did not at first respond. So she asked again.

"What is wrong with me that you want to make me a different person? I will not change! Not for these people you are taking me to, not for you, not for anyone! I am proud of who I am!"

Like a knife clarity split his thoughts.

"Diana, no one, myself least of all wants you to change who you are."

"Liar! Everything you want to change. The way I dress, the way I talk, making me eat with that horrible metal pointy thing!"

"Fork."

"Fine a fork! Even my name. If these people really care for me then they should accept me the way I am!"

Bruce shook his head solemnly.

"I am afraid you have misunderstood. Your family loves you completely, and they will continue to love you no matter what. You could show up on their doorstep naked and screaming like a banshee and it would not change the way they feel about you."

"Then why all the lessons?"

"Because I want this transition to be as easy as possible on _you_. England is quite different from anything you have known before and once we arrive your time and energy should be occupied with acquainting yourself with your relations. Not, in trying to master the basics of aristocratic manners. It is going to be awkward and foreign. The last thing you need is to feel self-conscious about your lack of knowledge on elementary interactions."

She crossed her arms.

He could see she was unconvinced. She did not possess the gift of concealing her emotions and her face was a perfect mirror of her thoughts and feelings.

 _So Stubborn._

 _How am I supposed to convince her to give being English a chance?_

"Wait." He commanded and Diana wondered where he thought she was going to go. She was all but imprisoned in this wooden coffin.

With heavy measured strides he made his way to the chest against the wall of the main cabin.

Diana watched with curiosity as he unlocked it and lifted the lid. She had observed the contents of his quarters many times over the last few three days. (It was her only source of amusement.) But never had she been allowed to look inside the chest.

She sensed it was something private and initially had felt no desire to intrude. But after three days of being cooped up like a caged bird she had found her curiosity over it reaching sinful proportions.

What could have been inside it that required a lock? Perhaps treasure! Or more portraits like the one on his desk, or at the very least she hoped it contained some more intriguing books to read then those imposing volumes that dominated the shelf.

The truth was not nearly as interesting as her imaginings but she had no way of knowing this. So consequently her prying mind could not relinquish it from her thoughts. Several times she had tried in vain to open it when he was not looking. (A difficult task.) And just this morning he had returned to the cabin to find her trying to pick the lock with that accursed fork.

And now here he was opening it and her curiosity would finally be satisfied.

Careful not to move, for she had already learned that he missed nothing and meant every word that he said, so his command to stay put was not to be taken lightly. She stretched her neck to catch a glimpse at the forbidden objects.

Disappointment crashed down on her as she saw nothing but neat stacks of perfectly folded shirts and trousers.

 _Why it is nothing but a chest for clothing._ She thought bitterly and once again crossed her arms in disgust.

Oddly she mentally projected this disappointment onto the man himself. As if he and not herself had built up the contents of the chest in her mind only to destroy the illusion with the truth. It made her hate him all the more.

 _Can't he leave well enough alone? Why must he spoil everything!_

She was so preoccupied with her irrational hatred that she failed to notice something else in the trunk. It wasn't until he was standing before her once more that she saw what he had retrieved.

Raising an eyebrow in bewilderment she looked at the box he held towards her. Obviously he was waiting for her to take it but she made no move to do so. Dropping her arms to her side she continued to stare at it.

It was made of sandalwood, overlaid with Ivory and gold. Elaborate designs of flowers and vines climbed its surface made of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. It rested on delicate little golden feet with small diamond stars set into their design. The latch was of exquisite gold and a matching key set in its lock, a silken cord of midnight blue hanging from its crescent shaped bow.

She had seen that box many times, but she had never been allowed to touch it.

It was her mother's, and it always took pride of place among her belongings.

It had been a gift from the Sultan to commemorate the birth of their first son, the crown prince. Inside it Nura had kept her most precious jewels. Only she was allowed to open it, the key always hung on her wrist, never out of her sight. And now it was here, on this dirty English ship, far away from the splendor of the palace where it belonged.

It looked so out of place in the wooden cabin with its drab bed linen and unimaginative belongings. It didn't belong here, it shouldn't be here…so why was it.

"Where did you get that?" she asked in a small voice.

Resting the casket in one hand he reached out and gently pulled her hands away from her sides and placed it in her hands.

"The servant girl asked me to give it to you."

" _Fawzia_." She whispered.

"Yes, I would have given it to you before but I was afraid that in the heat of anger over being sent away you might have thrown it into the ocean."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red and knew his assumption had been correct as a look of shame settled on her face.

Reverently she held the chest in her still outstretched arms.

Then without warning she clutched it to her breast and bolted into her closet of a room, slamming the door behind.

 ** _Diana,_**

Rushing to the cot she gently placed the ornate container on the bed and sat across from it.

Reaching out a hand she ran the tips of her fingers over the jeweled flowers.

Opening the lid she inhaled the familiar scent of jasmine and frankincense that always clung to Nura's person.

Tears burned in her eyes as she ached to feel her mother's embrace once more.

Looking inside the box she found a neat pile of brightly colored silks. With great joy she began to pull out one piece after the other and toss them into the air, watching them drift down around the cabin and banish the gloomy colorless atmosphere of her tiny closet.

Purple, green, yellow, blue, orange, red! All the colors her sight had been craving to see now littered the floor and bed in a beautiful display of disarray.

Smiling she looked back into the chest.

At the bottom was a single piece of perfect white silk, covering something.

She pulled back the fabric and gasped in surprise.

Reaching both hands into the chest she pulled out a pair of extraordinary twin silver bracelets.

Diana had never seen anything like them before. Holding them up to the faint light from the window she watched them sparkle in the sun.

They were perfection itself, and so smooth she felt they might slip from her hands. Suddenly feeling unworthy of such a priceless gift she placed them rather hastily on the pillow and contented herself to look at them from a distance.

 _Ami, what does this mean? Did you know of the Sultan's plans?_

She turned her eye back to the chest in search of answers.

Pulling out that last shred of silk she exposed the smoothed bottom of the case. Inside was a carefully folded piece of paper, and beside it a small wooden doll.

Picking up the figurine she turned it over in her hand.

Faded green eyes stared back at her and red flames of hair were carved around the bobble's head.

The doll did not smile for her mouth had worn away many years ago, but her face was still one Diana knew well.

Closing her hand around the little doll she hugged her to herself.

" _Shayera._ " She whispered and heard the wind whistle a replay from outside the window.

That little doll had been hidden away amongst the many layers of silk with no one having taken any notice of it. It had been an attempt to say goodbye, and a desperate plea to not be forgotten.

Laying the doll with care beside the bracelets she retrieved the folded paper from its wooden confines.

Pulling her legs up under her she crossed her ankles and unfolded the paper.

The writing was shaky and poorly formed. Several words were barely legible but they had been written with great struggle and care for one so dearly loved.

 _My most beloved and cherished daughter,_

 _It is with a broken heart that I write to you._

 _I have loved you as much as any mother could love a child, and I will continue to love you till my dying day. And even though you have been taken far away from me never doubt that I still care for you._

 _My darling Amira I pray that you will find happiness in your new life. For I could not live thinking that you were doomed to be unhappy. So please my little sun and stars, be happy._

 _With all my love,_

 _Your mother._

 _Nura, First wife of the Sultan, Jewel of the Palace, and Ruler of the harem._

Diana pressed the note to her cheek as the tears flowed down her face. Curling up in a ball she lay on the bed and sobbed.

It was done now, the last nail in the coffin had been struck. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she could never go back. Life would never be as it was before, and she was Princess Amira no longer.

From now on she was Lady Diana Princeton, and as her mother wished she would do her best to be happy.

 ** _Bruce,_**

She had closed herself off in her room hours ago.

He had better things to do of course then wait for her to reemerge. An act that if history repeated itself could take days. But he had decided to remain faithfully in his cabin with one eye turned towards the wooden cupboard door to her small room.

At present he sat at the table, back straight in the stiff wooden chair, a volume of scientific discovery in his hands. His eyes skimmed the words without really seeing them, for he knew them by heart and had no need to read them again.

BANG!

Bruce bolted out of his chair and raced to the door only to hesitate in front of it.

BANG!

The sound resonated through the cabin again this time followed by the muffled sound of a woman's voice hissing words in a foreign tongue that he could not understand but based on the tone took to not be pleasant ones.

"Diana?"

BANG!

(More curses.)

Bruce knocked on the door with a large fist.

"Diana are you alright?"

"OH JUST GET IN HERE!" She hollered.

Bursting through the door he found the room a complete disaster. Various articles of women's clothing mixed with squares of brightly colored fabrics covered the cabin. And standing in the middle of this whirlwind was a very irate 15 year old girl.

She was wearing a dove grey dress, the skirt of which was too long and gathered in uneven pleats on the floor. Even though the skirt was too long the sleeves were an awkward length hitting right above the wrist, and the tight collar was without embellishment.

Whoever had made that dress had no idea what they were doing.

Despite the obvious lacking's of the dress she was still as radiant as ever. Her cheeks were flushed and she stood with her hands on her hips tapping her foot in frustration.

Sheepishly looking at the floor boards she made a request.

"I need your help."

She spoke so softly that he could quite catch the words.

"What?"

She sighed in surrender.

"I need your help…with the buttons, I cannot reach them all."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he bowed his head so she would not see his amusement.

"Of course."

Picking up the skirt she turned around and he threaded his way through the avalanche of clothing to her.

Taking both hands she lifted her mane of dark curls so the long row of buttons was visible.

Sure enough in the middle of her back were five unhooked that she could not have possibly reached on her own.

As he did up the buttons he noticed the bare skin of her back. Apparently when he had said to get dressed she took that to mean she should put on only the dress.

Bruce groaned inwardly as he foresaw the painful conversation to come of him trying to explain the extent of female clothing to her.

But that could wait for another time.

"There."

Dropping her hair she turned back around and made a fuss of trying to straighten the heavy woolen skirt.

She continued to stare sheepishly at the floor for several minutes, fidgeting with her clothing.

Finally she took a deep breath and pushed a large section of hair away from her face so she could see more clearly.

"I want to…I feel I should…you should know that I…I…"

"Apology accepted."

Her large azure eyes snapped up to look at his and she found a small smile on his face. It wasn't condescending but polite.

Feeling relieved she smiled back and Bruce was struck by how beautiful she really was when happy.

"Thank you Captain Wayne."

"Please, Bruce."

She nodded.

"Bruce. Now what do I need to know to meet my family?"

 ** _The Knight's Revenge, July 1843_**

Diana sat curled up at the small table in the captain's cabin, concentrating on the book of English Bruce had given her to study.

She spent most of her days like this, going over endless charts and lists he had put together for her. She had been a faithful student and felt quite proud of her progress. She could now rank all the levels of English nobility and even knew the names of many of the royal family.

Because Bruce was busy running the ship Diana only tended to see him during meals. He would quiz her on her days study and then allow her the remaining time to question him on life in England, her family, the workings of the ship and so on. After dinner he would disappear again and she would spend her evening by the lamp. In theory she was supposed to be practicing her writing or some such chore, but more often than not she would abandon the task and instead entertain herself with her own thoughts.

She would browse through his limited selection of books but could never find any of them interesting enough to pick up based on her own interest. She would tidy up the cabin, a task she would never have considered doing before but now found rather relaxing. Of course it was only ever her mess that needed tidying. Bruce always kept his belongings in military fashion.

But usually she would sit on her bed and imagine what would be like to meet her family. She would unroll the scroll he had given her and look at each name over and over again. Pretending the other person was in the room with her she would practice introducing herself and design a multitude of different conversations that might take place. She wanted everything to be perfect, she wanted them to like her, so she practiced, over and over again.

Diana had grown accustom to the solitude, but it was becoming increasingly lonely.

A loud banging noise from overhead made her jump and drop the book in her hands.

As she bent down to pick it up she heard a rhythmic tapping on the floor boards overhead.

Curious she placed the book on the table and stood. Smoothing the pleats of her dress she walked to where a small mirror hung on the wall.

Hastily she arranged her hair into a long braid and took a quick look at her face to make sure it was clean.

The noise had lessened now and seemed to be moving farther down the deck away from the cabin. Forgetting her boots that she preferred to not wear in general she opened the door and climbed up the narrow staircase to the main deck.

Once she had crested the last step she was met by a wonderful sight.

The entire deck was alive with music and laughter.

One of the crew had produced a fiddle and the rest had joined together in a lively country dance, stomping and traipsing across the ship without a care.

A cool salty breeze pulled at her skirts adding an air of magic to the scene. Diana was completely enthralled.

As the song ended the men laughed and collapsed against the railings to catch their breath.

Diana began to applaud and all eyes turned to look and they smiled in recognition of their most unusual audience.

A lanky man with an acrobatic gait came up to her and bowed with sincere grace.

"Welcome your Highness."

She smiled and nodded graciously in return.

"Thank you Mister Grayson, what is happening?"

He straightened and smiled down at her. He wasn't as tall as Bruce but he still held the advantage of height over her, though not by much.

"The men were just passing the time, would you like to join us?"

The other crew members looked on happily, it would be a nice change to have a lady to dance with.

"Will you teach me?"

"Of course Princess." He said extending an arm to her. Diana took it and allowed him to escort her into the midst of the rather gruff and unkempt looking passel of sailors.

Immediately the men began to cheer and Diana smiled in excitement.

"Plays us a jig Jim!" Hollard one of the older sailors who was missing most of his teeth.

"Pretty as ya please Fred." Answered Jim who pulled the bow across the fiddle's strings with a lively energy and coaxed out a tune, the kind of which that makes the feet itch to dance.

"Come on Princess!" The men cheered as they took their places.

"But how do I do it?"

"Can't be explained, you jus gotta jump in and hang on!"

Taking the advice she threw her hand into the line and began to jump and turn in time to the music.

The sailors whooped and hollered as they cheered her on, shouting different steps and roaring with laughter as she stepped across her partners boots.

She laughed as well and her cheeks began to flush with color from the excitement, this was the most fun she had had in ages!

The music came to a halt and thunderous applause echoed in her ears as the men whistled and commanded her to take a bow.

Diana smiled as she curtsied to her audience and cry went up for another jig.

Jim shouted for them to take their places and this time the whole assembly abandoned the rails and lined up for the reel.

Joyous Diana took her place front and center ready to stomp and dance with the best of them. Her eager attitude endeared her to the sailors who lobbied for the chance to be her partner, and good naturedly sulked when they had to wait their turn and dance with one of their compatriots.

In the midst of the merriment no one noticed John Grayson returning to man the helm.

The music struck up again and dancers grabbed the arms and spun around in time to the tune.

Meanwhile Bruce returned to deck from the haul and joined his first mate on the poop deck, where he could more easily observe the merrymaking below.

 ** _Bruce,_**

"What's going on down there John?"

"Just the men teaching the Princess how to turn a jig Captain."

John smiled good naturedly at his friend but Bruce's face remained stern.

"She isn't a Princess."

John raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Isn't she though? She was raised to be just as I was raised to be a sailor, and you a Lord. I reckon that makes her one even if her blood doesn't. What else can we be Captain? If not what we were raised to be?"

Bruce pondered that thought for a moment. And John, taking advantage of the all too familiar silence gave him some more food for thought.

"I know it isn't my place to say so Wayne. (The closest John ever came to using Bruce's Christian name.) But it's downright criminal the way you've kept that poor girl cooped up down there like she was in a cage."

"I've done no such thing."

"Haven't you just. Kept her locked up with all those infernal books and lessons. It's a wonder the girl hasn't gone stark raving mad!"

Bruce began to protest but John cut him off.

"Now I know why you've done it and your intentions are good. After all sailors aren't fitting company for a young lady. But I'll be damned if they're not better than no company at all! She's a young girl Wayne, not some doll that can be put on a shelf, she's spirited and curious…"

"More like stubborn and selfish."

Grayson laughed aloud at that, something his employer didn't find amusing.

"Aye a bit. But what woman isn't stubborn in her own way? They all are, some just go about it differently than others. She doesn't beat around the bush I'll give you that, what that girl thinks she says, but selfish?"

John pondered that whilst he and Bruce watched her dancing with the crew.

"No, I don't believe she's anymore selfish than any other child. And why shouldn't she be? She was raised where anything she desired was at her finger tips, surely you can relate to that. Naw give it time Captain and it will pass. She has a kind heart that one, let her see something of someone who needs her as much as she needs them and I wager she'll walk across hot coals for 'em."

"And how long do you believe we will have to wait till that happens?" asked Bruce.

John gave him a knowing smile.

"Oh, I'd say not too long, just until someone catches her fancy. Aint nothing quite like a girl in love."

Bruce scoffed at that notion.

"Honestly John she's only a child. If we have to wait for her to fall in love in order to behave herself I am afraid we're in for a rather long wait."

Grayson didn't respond but just continued to watch the dancing with a bemused smile.

 ** _Diana,_**

The music picked up pace until they were all spinning like tops!

Diana looked down and watched her red skirt flail about her.

 _Oh what glorious fun!_

Then abruptly the music stopped and several of the crew collapsed in fits of laughter as they tried to regain their breath.

She laughed as well between gasps as she put a hand to her side trying to put pressure on the slight ache from the exertion.

"Another!"

"Ya play another one!" the familiar chorus began before being interrupted by an old timer with hair as white as clouds and eyes blue like the sea.

"Stop! Stop! Hold on there!"

The men obeyed and watched him expectantly.

The old man looked at Diana and leaned in expectantly eyeing her with suspicion.

"Do ye know how to waltz missy?"

Diana couldn't keep the smile off her face even though this stranger seemed so very serious.

Still catching her breath she couldn't answer so instead shook her head no.

The sailor nodded his head as if this was the answer he expected and slapped his knee. Then turning to his fellow sea farers he put it to them.

"We can't be neglecting our duty to the Princess! Every proper gal needs to know how to waltz!"

A roar of approval went up amongst the crowd and Diana found herself hopelessly confused but excited all the same.

"Charlie!" bellowed the old sea dog.

"Teach the lass how de waltz!"

Charlie stood with pride, he was a short little man who came up just to her shoulders with a sprig of ginger colored hair and freckles all across his face. His arms and legs were thin as poles but his belly stuck out like a proud little basket.

With great dignity Charlie swaggered up to Diana, who had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at his preposterous appearance.

Charlie bowed and Diana curtsied just as Bruce had shown her. Then the little man extended a hand towards her. She had no idea what to do with that so she took it and kissed the back of his hand just Bruce had done when she first arrived on board the ship.

The men howled at that and teasingly booed little Charlie who blushed a deep crimson.

Embarrassed Diana turned to the closest man.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The man was the busy laughing to answer her and so just waved his arm about like he was flagging down a cab.

Charlie regained his dignity and explained.

"No Princess, you take my hand like this." He said as he pulled her in closer to him, she could see completely over his head.

Showing her how to position her hands and feet they stood ready and a bit stiff a good foot apart, having to stretch their arms so as to reach one another.

Poor Charlie had only danced a waltz once with a girl from Yorkshire, but still he was the most experienced of the group and thus no one contradicted him on his hopeless lack of form.

"Now we count, 1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and…"

Charlie made complete eye contact with his feet and Diana taking her cue from him did likewise.

The men were thoroughly enjoying the scene and began to hum out a waltz while Jim played the fiddle.

The movements were jerky and rough and Diana found it extremely hard to concentrate with Charlie counting under his breath. Thinking maybe it would help to join him she began to count out loud as well, soon all the sailors joined in.

"1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and 1,"

It began to get easier as Jim played above the noise but poor Charlie's legs were so short that her strides could never quite match his. It was an amusing sight but not very practical for teaching.

As she concentrated harder she failed to notice that the others (even the violin) had ceased counting and were now silent. She was so busy concentrating on matching Charlie's little steps that she never felt the presence lurking right behind her.

"1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and 1, 2, 3, and…"

"May I cut in?"

Diana looked up to see that Charlie had stopped dancing, and his eyes were big as bowls.

Turning around to the voice she found herself looking into the deep blue eyes of Bruce Wayne.

With a charming debonair smile he bowed his handsome head and the sun shone through his well combed dark hair.

Remembering what he had taught her she curtsied. And upon rising found him waiting expectantly.

Leaning in slightly he softly spoke for her ears alone.

"May I have this dance?"

"You may." She said in a suddenly shy whisper.

Smiling he straightened and nodded to Jim. Who, with a large smile on his face began to play a hauntingly beautiful waltz.

Taking one large hand he held her smaller one gently but firmly in his. With the other he placed on her waist and out of instinct more than knowledge she put her hand on his shoulder.

The with a devastating smile he whisked her about the deck.

The beauty of the music played softly in her ears blocking out all other sound.

She did not count, or look at her toes, all she had to do was look into his eyes and allow him to guide her across the floor.

She felt like she was flying and her heart raced with new emotion.

She wanted this moment to gone on forever, just the two of them forever caught up in the magic of this dance.

He twirled her about and she was followed by a sea of red as her skirt flowed behind.

Silence rested as all watched the pair, none daring to break the spell by speaking.

His eyes bore into hers and she felt herself overcome with shyness, and yet at the same time she felt the overwhelming desire to be even closer to him. Their bodies were pressed against each other and their faces were so close as to almost touch.

By the stars but he was a handsome man.

Even with her limited knowledge of men she knew she had never seen his equal and knew none could possibly exist. He was perfect.

The song came to an end and they stood there for a moment, locked in each other's gaze.

Then with a smile he let her go and bowed once more, and Diana felt an ache in her stomach at having to be distanced from him.

The whole ship erupted in thunderous applause but she did not hear them, she was too consumed with watching him as he walked away. Back to work.

 _Oh why did it have to end!_

 ** _The Knight's Revenge, August 1843_**

 ** _Diana,_**

A loud crack of thunder tore Diana from her slumber and she bolted upright in the small bed shock and fear shooting up her spine.

It was pitch black and the dead of night but the sound of rain beating against the ship and waves ramming against the side pounded in her skull.

Like a scared cat she threw back the covers and bolted for the door, tearing it open with a vengeance.

"Bruce?"

It was too dark to see so she called his name again.

"Bruce!"

Feeling her way in the dark she walked to the porthole, fighting against the jerking and rolling of the ship.

Gripping on to the edge of the glass she peered out at the sea.

Lightning flashed and she saw a giant wall of watcher crash into the side of the ship, screaming she covered her head as panic gripped her soul.

 _I am not going to die trapped down here!_

She thought and ran for the main door.

Opening it she felt herself being pushed back by a powerful gust of wind and rain that immediately soaked through her nightdress.

Using all of her strength she pulled the door closed behind her and getting on her hands and knees crawled up the staircase. All the while fighting against the downpour of rain and bombarding wind the tried to force her back!

Digging her nails into the wood she pulled herself up onto the deck as another clash of thunder rippled across the sky.

The wind was stronger up here and the ship lurched and tossed violently in the storm threatening at any moment to throw her back down the narrow stairs.

Unclenching her fist that had begun to shake with cold she outstretched her arms and tried to feel her way along the deck, all the while screaming as her throat began to grow hoarse.

"BRUCE!"

"BRUCE!"

Just then a bolt of lightning split the sky illuminating the deck. Everywhere she looked men ran in a panic tying down barrels, unraveling sails and fighting against the all-powerful sea.

Voices yelled but she couldn't understand any of them.

Once again she tried to call his name only to have the howling wind force the sound back down her throat.

"BRUCE!"

The ship jerked and her bare feet slid on the slick boards grabbing for anything in reach she grabbed a barrel and tried to steady herself as the rain plastered her hair over her eyes.

She had begun to shake uncontrollably and fear gripped her throat.

Once again the wind beat against her as she clutched to the barrel that began to slide.

Suddenly a strong hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around with sickening speed.

Instantly lightning illuminated the sky and she found herself staring into the furious face of Bruce Wayne.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" He screamed over the might of the storm.

But before she could respond a terrified yell echoed through the wind.

She turned her neck just in time to see a wall of water come crashing down over the deck.

She reached out for the barrel but it vanished!

Water filled her lungs as she felt her feet be lifted off the deck.

Everything was black and she reached out desperately for anything to grab onto.

 _Don't let me die! Please don't let me die!_

The wave slammed her back down against the deck with horrific force knocking the wind out of her and causing her mouth to fill with sea water.

Clawing at the boards she tried to grip on but the water began to pull her back with it.

She opened her mouth to scream but more water forced itself down her throat.

Then she felt strong arms grab her and pull her back from the oceans pull.

She coughed and sputtered as the rough hands pulled her up.

Picking her up in his arms he marched through the rains and winds, like a mountain unbending, back down the narrow stairs he beat open the door as the boat lurched again causing him to throw her inside.

Still gasping and coughing she turned to look at him and saw anger on his face and fear in his eyes.

"STAY HERE!" He commanded and then forced the door shut again.

The cabin felt extremely quiet, but she could still hear the wind whistle and taunt as the walls groaned against the pressure.

Terrified and sick from being tossed about and swallowing so much salt water she grabbed a nearby bucket used for scraps and retched into it.

Completely exhausted she curled up in a ball on the carpet and began to cry and shake from the cold.

She had the horrible sense that she had been here before. On a ship drowning in a storm. The wind whistling outside and the waves threatening to drag her down to a watery grave filled her with a terror that she could not understand or explain.

 _Make it stop, please, oh please make it stop!_

The nightmare that she could not remember continued as she cried on the rug, until at last exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a fitful sleep.

 ** _Bruce,_**

Hours passed before Bruce returned to the cabin.

When at last he did he was so tired he could hardly stand.

As he walked inside he saw her, sleeping in a ball on the floor, still sopping wet, much like himself.

Sighing he knelt down next to her.

He had intended to carry her back to her bed, but barely did he touch her when her eyes snapped open and she sat up like a shot.

"Are we dead?"

She asked the question so earnestly that he couldn't help himself. He began to chuckle as he half sat half fell onto the rug, soon the chuckle built into a full on belly laugh.

At first Diana stared at him bewildered as to what was so amusing, but as she thought about what she had just asked she too began to laugh.

They laughed until tears rolled down their faces and then they sat on the rug too tired to laugh anymore.

"No Diana, we are not dead."

"What a relief." She laughed.

Becoming more serious he spoke.

"Tell me, what possessed you to come up on deck in the middle of a storm? You could have died!"

Diana was now embarrassed for she did not understand her own folly lest how to explain it.

"I-I don't know, I just didn't want to die down here."

"So you thought you would die up there?!"

"NO! I don't know, it was just instinct."

"To run head long into the fight without thinking?"

"Yes." She whispered and Bruce shook his head.

"Who else would be afraid of dying so they try to face death? Diana you are a wonder of a woman."

She beamed at that, liking the sound of the title.

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I know, but I am taking it as one just the same."

"Of course you will. _Ugh_ , come on might as well go back to bed."

"Wait!"

He looked at her expectantly.

"For what?"

"Let's talk for a bit."

Bruce let out a groan.

"Diana, we can talk tomorrow."

"No we can't, tomorrow you will be busy being Captain, and you will give me lots of work to do and by the time it is all done it will be time to go to bed again. No! We talk now!"

He did not care to argue so he raised his hands in surrender.

"Fine, what would you like to talk about?"

She paused, thinking it over.

"Well, tell me about your family. What are your parents like?"

The question to him by surprise. It took him a very long time to answer, Diana was worried she had offended him. Perhaps in England men did not talk about their families.

"My parents are dead, like yours. I have no brothers or sisters, just distant cousins. I was raised by my guardian and butler Alfred Pennyworth. The finest man you'll ever meet."

Diana felt overwhelming compassion for this man. It was true that his plight was similar to her own except she had never known her parents so she did not feel their passing as keenly as she was sure he did.

"How did they die?"

Pain filled his eyes and he had to look away from her. Tears burned in her own eyes as she witnessed the suffering her question had brought. Reaching out a hand she placed it over his and squeezed it in comfort. At first she expected him to pull away but he didn't. He just left his hand sitting beneath hers like he didn't even know it was there. Then ever so softly he squeezed her hand back.

"I was 8, a mugger shot them."

Just as quickly as his feelings showed themselves he buried them once more. Moving his hand away from hers he turned back to her with cold eyes.

"Anything else?" he asked curtly.

She didn't know what to say but felt she was supposed to say something.

"Um,….is there anything you would like to know about me?"

Once again he looked surprised.

"I know about you."

"Yes, you know _who_ I am, but you don't know _me_."

He slowly nodded his head thoughtfully at the wisdom of that statement.

"Alright…...what do you enjoy doing for fun?"

Diana's face lit up and she smiled brightly.

"Oh I love to ride!"

"Really?" He questioned in surprise.

"I wouldn't think life in a harem would present much opportunity for horsemanship."

Diana raised her chin with pride.

"Well it would seem you don't know everything Captain Wayne."

Bruce acknowledged his defeat with a mock half bow, the best he could do while sitting.

"So are you any good?"

"Of course." She said with all the confidence of a Queen.

Once again Bruce laughed.

"Then you'll enjoy Riverfoot Hall, your late uncle was one of the best breeders in the county. The stables there are the envy of every family in England."

"Are there really so many horses?"

"Yes, I dare say you will have the pick of the country."

Diana popped up on her knees full of anticipation.

"You mean I can have one!?"

"Well you will have to ask your aunt but seeing as how your cousin Kara claims no less than three ponies I would be surprised if you were not given a mount of your own."

Unbridled joy illuminated her features as she began to imagine the joy of having a horse all her own.

"Shayera and I used to race. There was this…uh…garden, of sorts connected to the palace that was large enough to ride. It was mostly used for training, but on occasion the women were allowed to use it. We had so much fun the two of us. Shayera was always faster than I was, it was like she was flying. She could do tricks to. ( _Chuckle_.) She used to stand on the horses back and balance as it ran. It nearly scared poor old Fadeela to death."

Diana smiled fondly at the memory but Bruce's own smile faded and his brows knitted together in seriousness.

"Who is Shayera?"

Diana pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on the top.

Bruce's heart constricted with guilt as he watched her magnificent eyes mist over and her black lashes flutter in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

When she did speak it was in a much quieter tone.

"She is my sister…..and my dearest friend."

They sat in silence for a while before he questioned her again.

"Do you have many sisters?"

"The Sultan has 20 children. His pride, 16 sons, I only ever saw them at formal occasions. But I have four sisters. Sultana is the eldest, she was married off to a general when I was very young, but she still visits when her husband grows tired of her. Shani is next and is the Sultan's favorite, and she never let any of us forget it. We used to call her the royal elephant because she had grown so fat. Nadira's next, she and Shani have the same mother but that doesn't make Shani any more pleasant to Nadira then the rest of us…. Nadira has a wicked sense of humor, she is always setting little traps for the servants and other women, especially Shani. She used to let me and Shayera in on her jokes and let us help. One time we convinced Maha for a whole month that her rooms were haunted. ( _soft laughter_.) Shayera is the youngest besides me. She is wonderful, no one tells Shayera what to do…She never let anyone talk down to me just because I was the youngest, or, not Nura's natural born daughter…..She punched Shani in her fat nose once for calling me an unwanted pup."

A few tears trickled down her cheek but she quickly brushed them away and smiled once more as she remembered the happy times.

"When Shani went whining to the Sultan trying to blame me Shayera fallowed her the whole way and loudly told him the truth until she was screaming over Shani's tears. In the end Shayera was the one punished but she said she was glad because it was about time she was given some notice."

As Diana's laugh faded away the two once again sat in silence.

The minutes stretched by as the quiet continued.

"I am sorry Diana."

She looked at him with those captivating azure eyes that held no understanding of his words.

"What for?" she asked confused.

"I am sorry you have been taken away from them."

She looked away from him again and back to the rug.

Bruce now felt sure that she must hate him for being a part of the act that separated her from her family. But to his surprise her voice held no malice and she did not shut him off with cold silence, she simply said…

"Thank you."

Bruce pushed himself off the floor and Diana watched with interest as he opened his desk.

After rummaging for a minute through his well-organized belongings he found what he desired and turned back to her.

He offered her a hand and she rose gracefully from the floor, her eyes still wide with curiosity.

Taking her hand he placed in it a wooden pencil and a thick sheet of white parchment.

Diana looked at the gift, not knowing what to make of it.

"To make a lineage tree like the one your aunt made…I don't want you to forget them, write them all down so that you will always remember your life before England."

She turned her perfect face up and her eyes sparkled with glee.

Throwing her arms around his neck she hugged him tight and gave him a joyous peck on the cheek.

"Oh, thank you Bruce, thank you!"

Taking her new treasures she flew off to her tiny room and closed the door.

Now standing alone Bruce put a hand to his cheek where she had kissed it, and an amused smile curled his lips before he blew out the candle and went to bed.

Over the remainder of the voyage the pair shared many similar moments of conversation. Relaying happy tales from childhood and sharing details of the lives they had known and the one waiting for Diana when they reached London.

They became close, Bruce seeing her as a little sister he wished to protect, and Diana viewing him as a sturdy rock to anchor herself too. Her feelings for him were deepening to a crush and the sweet innocence of first love and attraction were both intoxicating and coy to her. As for his part Bruce remained oblivious to her deepening feelings but it was better that way for Diana was not sure what to make of them herself.

But above all else a friendship blossomed between them that would prove itself needed as time moved on.

 ** _The Knight's Revenge, September 1843_**

 ** _Diana,_**

The wind pulled at her skirt and a thick fog settled all around her as the ship pulled into dock. Her eyes struggled to make out the shadowy silhouettes of buildings and people as they neared and her heart seemed caught in her throat making it almost impossible to breath.

 _This is England._

After so many months they had finally arrived.

A tall muscular man with black hair and dark blue eyes stood next to her, eyeing the oncoming scene with his natural serious demeanor. Looking down at the woman clothed in black Bruce spoke for her ears alone.

"Welcome to London, Princess."


	6. Chapter 5: Land of Unknown

**A bit short this chapter sorry.**

 **Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, my usual proofreader got a job in a different country so I have been on my own.**

 **Thank you to everyone for reading and please enjoy.**

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **Chapter 5: Land of Unknown**

 _London England, September 1843._

"If you break that vase, I'll have your head!"

"Y-Yes my Lady."

The maid visibly coward before her petite mistress who stood barely over 5 foot but seemed much taller due to her imposing nature.

Lois gathered up her skirts and spun on her heels, marching down the hall.

Seeing another servant she once again lashed out at an undeserving victim.

"Dust those drapes correctly! Don't just fling them about!"

"Yes milady."

"And wash the windows while you're at it."

"B-but…" the nervous man began.

"What!?" she snapped.

"But if I open the window to clean it the rain will get it."

Lois glared at the man in disgust.

"Then get a bucket!"

And with that she marched off, leaving the maid in tears and the footman swearing under his breath.

She continued down the hallway until she came to a door where another maid waited for her. Her arms were piled high with towels and her little starched cap quivering with dread.

She curtsied as Lois approached keeping her eyes downcast.

Lois eyed her with contempt, she could never abide a coward.

Rolling her eyes she retrieved the key ring from her waist and opened the door.

The maid curtsied once more and scurried inside, Lois hot on her heels. After setting the towels in the cupboard she bolted from the room, forgetting to ask if there was anything else her mistress needed.

Lois rolled her eyes.

 _Stupid child._

She looked about the room and felt disappointment swell with in her.

 _This will never do!_ She thought. _It is far too juvenile, if only there was time to make another room ready._

Her violet eyes scanned the chamber. Taking in the pink walls and bedding. It was small, it was childish, it was…all wrong!

Why had she chosen this one? The girl was 15 not 5.

 _Oh well, too late to do anything about that now._

Exiting the room she closed the door behind her, leaving it unlocked.

As she walked through her fine London house Lois felt an irritating despair begin to once again weigh down on her soul.

Everything annoyed her, the servants, her husband, even the house itself.

Lois had never been the most congenial person but lately her bad moods had increased exponentially, to the point where even she was annoyed with herself.

She made life a living hell for all those around her, using her sharp tongue and quick wit to verbally abuse anyone who so much as breathed in her direction.

The servants coward before her and even her husband had begun to ebb out of her way. Trying to give her some much needed space for her tempers to roam free. But all that had done was make her feel more isolated.

The problem was that she was bored. Frightfully and painfully bored. She had not been married a full year and already she found the proper and supposedly desirable life of an English housewife so horrendously dull and mind numbing that she genuinely feared for her sanity.

The only thing that had managed to distract her from this was the anticipated arrival of her husband's cousin.

She had scoured the house in preparation for her arrival, no detail was too small or insignificant to take her notice.

For a while these preparations proved to lift her spirits, unfortunately the time it took for the girl to arrive was much greater than the time needed to plan her arrival.

So boredom had reestablished itself and Lois was counting down the seconds until it could be lifted again.

 _Downstairs:_

Clark Kent finished counting the bills and then held them out to the sobbing maid who snatched them in her hands. She bobbed an odd little curtsy and sniveled her way out of the room.

Clark let out a heavy sigh as he sat down in his favorite chair.

 _That's the third one this week._

Keeping a maid employed at the London house of the Earl and Countess of Lonworth should have been a relatively easy task…But it wasn't.

Despite the fact that servants in the house received daily wages that were the same amount they would make in a week working elsewhere most didn't last more than a day. The few who had made up a small regiment of servants who had more grit then a military platoon.

Gertrude was just the latest in a long line of domestic servants who hadn't been able to handle his wife's domineering personality.

Clark smiled as he thought of Lois.

He adored his wife, she was everything he was not, determined, witty and even a little brash. Not that he wasn't capable of those skills but they were not his natural inclination.

He preferred a quiet existence.

He wished nothing more than to be a traditional country gentleman, no airs or graces, whose greatest joy in life was coming home at the end of the day to his well-run house, his beloved wife, and to sit by the fire in his favorite easy chair reading the daily paper.

He was aware that these dreams were not shared by his wife. And even though that did cause problems he would not wish her to be anything other then what she was. He had been drawn to her fire and would never have wanted to see it extinguished.

The clock over the mantle struck four and he retrieved his gold pocket watch to verify the time.

 _They'll be here any minute._

Taking a deep breath Clark removed his circular glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Leaning forward in his chair he rested his chin on his fists and stared into the fireplace.

She had been so little the last time he had seen her, barely more than an infant.

Clark smiled fondly as he remembered arguing with a six year old Dinah at the time of his Aunt Hippolyta's pregnancy on whether or not their new cousin would be a boy or a girl…Dinah had won. And he could honestly say that his disappointment had evaporated the minute he saw his new baby cousin.

She had been a bright-eyed thing with raven curls and a pair of extraordinary azure eyes.

He could still see the toothless grin she had given him as her tiny fist grabbed his finger with surprising strength.

 _But she isn't a baby anymore._ He reminded himself as his smiled faded.

They knew nothing of her now. 13 years they had thought her dead and now she had come back to life.

 _I wonder what she is like?_

 ** _Diana,_**

For the millionth time Diana straightened the folds of her black skirt and reached up to touch her collar.

Bruce noticed her nervous behavior but was disinclined to say anything. Instead he continued to watch out the carriage window, even though the torrential downpour made it nearly impossible to make anything out.

He was glad he had insisted that Clark not meet them at the dock. She needed as much time as possible to prepare herself.

That is why he didn't burden this time with useless assurance that everything would be fine. He had no idea how this would all go and he knew that no matter what he said she wouldn't hear him. She was too busy thinking to hear anything he said.

As for her part Diana barely knew he was there at all.

She tried watching out the window to distract herself from her crippling anxiety but that served only to depress her.

Bruce was right, England was unlike anything she had ever seen and different from anything she had imagined. But it was _not_ a good sort of different.

The scenery blurred by in an array of dark, lifeless colors and tones. The sky had been darkened by clouds and the rain poured down at such an intense rate that she feared the carriage roof would not hold.

She wasn't exactly sure what she had expected, but some color at least would have helped. It was just so awful and grey! Very different from the hot sun and endless sea and desert she had known before.

Turning her face from the window she yet again straightened her skirt.

The wool fabric felt scratchy to her skin but thankfully she had had several months to get used to the texture…that didn't mean she liked it though.

She and Bruce had never actually gotten to have that conversation about ladies undergarments. She would have found the material immensely more comfortable if she had been wearing a barrier between her skin and the tight wool dress. But that was one lesson he had decided to leave for Lois.

Diana breathed a small sigh of relief however as she once again straightened her sleeves.

 _At least this is one less thing to worry about._ She thought.

She was quite pleased with the way she looked. Confident that in that department at least she was adequately prepared.

Diana had chosen the black dress because it was the best fit, though truthfully it was still tight. Also it was the only one of her three gowns that had any form of embellishment. A small, stiff lace collar sat on its high neckline. She had thought herself quite pretty as she had dressed that morning.

Her brown boots were so well polished you could have seen your reflection in them. She had badgered Bruce into giving up his polish kit and had worked thoroughly on them through the night.

Because she had grown a solid inch over the past months the toes of the boots were visible underneath her now noticeably shorter skirt. But she was unaware of what a fashionable blunder this was.

Yes, at least her appearance was correct, or so she believed.

Now the only problem was meeting them.

What would they think of her? Would they change their minds about wanting her back? Where would she go if that happened, it wasn't like she could go back to Dagra?

 _Maybe I can stay with Bruce._

She thought of what it would be like to forget all about England and Dagra, and just spend the rest of her life traveling the world on his ship.

She smiled and glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

He seemed oblivious to her, looking out the window with his normal frosty gaze.

 _No, he would never let me come…He likes being alone._

For the rest of the ride she went over and over in her mind how to behave when she met her family, just like he had taught her.

By the time the carriage rolled to a stop her stomach was a knot of raw nerves that made her feel sick.

 ** _Bruce,_**

Bruce opened the carriage door and stepped out into the rain.

After a brief struggle he managed to open an umbrella and create a barrier from the downpour.

"You can get now." He said as he looked back inside the carriage.

She didn't move.

She didn't even acknowledge his voice.

She had turned white as a sheet and her eyes had grown nearly twice in size as she stared straight ahead.

 ** _Diana,_**

Her heart was pounding so hard she felt like it would beat out of her chest.

Her hands and feet had gone numb and her lungs struggled to fill with air.

 _I can't do this…I just can't do this…_

Just then she felt a strong warm hand holding her cold one and giving it a gentle squeeze.

She looked down and saw his black glove encircled around her pale fingers.

Diana dragged her gaze to his face and found his clear blue eyes staring sympathetically back. And a reassuring little smile on his lips.

"After you."

They exited the carriage and under the cover of the umbrella made their way to the door. Bruce beat the knocker against the wood until a maid opened it.

She did not wait for him to make introductions but just motioned them inside out of the storm.

The maid said something but Diana didn't hear her.

Bruce took her by the arm and led her past the servant and down the hall.

 ** _Clark,_**

Clark stood by his wife, an outward picture of domestic bliss as they watched the double parlor doors.

They opened and he smiled as he saw his best friend enter. And on his arm was a girl of incomparable beauty.

Not in for one moment could he have mistaken who she was. He would have known her anywhere, and tears sprang to his eyes as he looked at her.

She was every inch a Lennox.

Raven hair, like their grandmother's. Incredible azure eyes, like her mother. And her impressive height which came from her unusually tall Princeton father. Even at her young age he didn't think he had ever met a woman who could have matched her.

He watched her face for signs of reaction.

Her eyes were wide with uncertainty as she took in the room.

But he saw it change as she looked at himself and Lois.

Immediately a cool calm came over her and she raised her chin into the air with pride. She seemed to grow taller as a natural regality took hold of her. He could practically see her building a wall around herself.

Clearly something had displeased her, but he had no idea what.

 ** _Diana,_**

 _No, no, no, it was wrong!_

The one thing! The one thing she thought she didn't need to worry about and it was simply terrible!

The instant she saw her cousin's wife she knew without a doubt that her clothes were hideous and completely wrong.

 _I bet Laurel has never even seen an English woman!_

Lois was dressed in the latest fashion, despite the fact that she was in mourning.

Her black taffeta dress had long bell shaped sleeves with white muslin undersleeves that were edged with fine lace. Her collar was high like Diana's but boasted a V shape at the neck instead of round. It was also accompanied by a lace collar that had been dyed black.

Her multiple tiered skirt was trimmed with black crepe and flared most becomingly away from her body. Making her waist seem all the more minuscule. The bodice was a stiff upside down triangle shape that made the wearer's posture near perfect. (Though Diana's posture was impeccable without such assistance.)

Lois also sported earrings, a bracelet, and a broach made from hard jet. Typical mourning jewelry.

Finally Diana glanced her hair. Unlike her own which was in a long braid past her waist, Lois wore hers up. Parted in the middle of her head with the sides swooped down over her ears and braided into the low bun at the nape of her neck.

The crowning glory of her simple yet fashionable hairstyle was a white lace day cap that sat neatly on her head. With two ribbons tied in bows on either side of the front with their tales falling down over her ears, and big surprise they were also black. The whole hat was far too frilly for Diana's taste and she didn't think it suited the smaller woman at all.

Still she had to admit Lois was an attractive person, especially with those violet eyes. It wasn't surprising that her cousin had married her.

Diana had come from a world where a woman's beauty was a most highly prized thing and entire marriages were based around it. Men did not care what their wives thought, only that they were attractive.

She did not like this concept but accepted it as a universal truth, not realizing how little she really understood about men and their motives in love.

 _This isn't how this was supposed to begin. I must look so foolish to them._

As her embarrassment over her appearance grew the more her pride swelled to the surface.

She was a Princess, she would not let them see her shame.

All previous decisions on how to be polite and correct flew out of her head. In her mind this meeting was already ruined.

"Clark, Lois, may I present Lady Diana Princeton. Diana, this is your cousin, Clark Kent, Earl of Lonworth." Bruce said.

Clark smiled warmly and held out his arms to embrace her, only to be stopped by her frosty gaze as she nodded slightly at him and Lois. Like a queen acknowledging servants.

The rude sting of the gesture didn't seem to have any effect on him, for his smile was still firmly in place, but he did return his arms to his sides.

Lois bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Anyone else would have been offended by the child's behavior. But Lois admired her pride and spirit and decided that she was pleased that the girl would be staying with them.

"Please have a seat." Clark said motioning to a pair of overly stuffed chairs.

Bruce took Diana by the elbow and steered her towards the chair.

He took the one next to hers while Clark and Lois sat on the settee across the rug.

The four of them sat in uncomfortable silence for what felt like hours.

The longer they sat the more Diana's superior façade eroded away and her nervous behavior began to resurface.

Bruce glanced at her hands that sat in her lap and watched them twitch and rub together nervously.

"I wish to see the sisters of Hippolyta." Diana commanded, breaking the silence.

Bruce wondered if anyone else noticed the thickening of her accent that betrayed her emotions.

"Oh, um, well…ma-uh that is Martha, is still in the country…mourning my father…but we'll all see her in a couple of days. When we take you to Riverfoot….And as for Aunt Mary, she will be here tomorrow evening for dinner. Along with Uncle Benjamin and Dinah and Oliver…Uh did Bruce tell you about our cousin Dinah?"

"Yes."

"Oh…good."

Silence resumed.

"So Diana. Did you have a pleasant voyage?" Lois asked smiling a bit too brightly.

"Yes."

And once again silence…

The sound of the clock chiming five made them all jump in their seats and glare at the mantel with alarm.

All that is except Mr. Wayne, who calmly pulled out his own fine pocket watch to verify the time.

Nodding in agreement with the clock's assessment he returned the watch to his pocket and rose from his chair.

Bowing slightly in his hosts' direction he took his leave.

"I am sorry to cut our visit short but I am afraid that I have business that cannot wait."

Immediately the other three leapt to their feet in equal dismay at the prospect of being left together without a common thread.

Clark edged towards the door as if to cut off his friends escape and Lois practically grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving. As for herself Diana stood ridged as a statue, her eyes like saucers filled with terror.

"Oh surely not cousin!" Lois wailed.

A small cough from Clark reminded her of her undignified demeanor.

"I mean, of course we expected you to stay to dinner."

Bruce's face remained the emotionless reserved sculpture they knew him for, never acknowledging Lois's breech of decorum.

"Sadly no, I must take my leave."

He bowed once again to Lois.

"Cousin."

Then turning to his friend he nodded.

"Clark."

For Diana he bowed with the utmost respect and dignity and even managed a small reassuring smile as he straightened.

"Lady Princeton."

They remained frozen as he left the room.

Diana could hear the sound of his boots fading away as he left the way they came.

Suddenly she bolted from the room and dashed after him.

"BRUCE! WAIT!"

He was already at the front door, accepting his coat and hat from the maid.

Increasing her speed she flew for him, terrified that he would walk out the door and be lost to her forever.

"WAIT!"

He stopped, and turned, obeying her plea.

Skidding to a stop she began to lose her balance as she tried to keep from knocking him over.

He reached out a strong arm to steady her.

She grabbed it and found herself gripping onto it for dear life.

Looking up into his clear blue eyes she felt her throat begin to constrict with the emotions she had been fighting to keep at bay.

" _Please…_ " she whispered. " _Bruce you can't leave me here, you can't leave me with them._ "

His face betrayed nothing as he slowly pried her fingers from his arm and silently moved her back a foot.

She was quickly losing control of herself and didn't feel her pride could withstand the humiliation of the flood of tears that threatened to overtake her.

" _What am I supposed to do? Please you must tell me!_ "

Letting go of her hand he placed his hat upon his head and opened the door.

No longer caring of appearances she cried out in a hoarse voice.

"I'll never forgive you if you leave me here!"

He paused halfway out the door, his hand still poised on the nob.

Rounding he looked back at her.

His eyes were not blank this time, though she could not read the message within them.

Swiftly he closed the space between them so he toward above her.

She angled her head and looked up to him as he stared down at her.

Then, gently, he placed a large gloved hand on the back of her head, drawing it nearer to him.

Then with profound tenderness he pressed a small kiss to her forehead.

" _Goodnight._ " He whispered.

Then he drew back and without a moment's hesitation exited the premise. Closing the door firmly behind him.

Tears burned in her eyes as she blinked furiously.

The sound of swishing fabric let her know she was not alone.

Quickly she schooled her features into as dignified a setting as she could manage.

Rotating cautiously she turned from the door and met her hosts.

"I wish to go to my room now." She said in a small voice.

"Oh but it is only five, we still haven't had dinner and—"

" _Uhum_ …Lois dear, Cousin Diana has had a long and trying day."

Lois face flushed at her husband's reprimand and a small spark of anger shone in her eyes at being talked over.

"Of course, Beth will show you to your room."

With a snap of her fingers Lois summoned the maid, and a middle aged woman of considerable girth appeared at her side.

"This way milady." She directed the young girl kindly.

"Thank you." Diana replied, finally remembering to curtsy to her hosts before following Beth up the stairs.

Clark and Lois watched her disappear down the hallway before letting out a collective sigh they had not known they were holding.

"Well, that could have gone better." Lois stated.

"Indeed."

"I don't understand it. I mean I know it is all very knew to her and all but did you see the look on her face? It was like she wished us to be swallowed up by the earth!"

"Something definitely upset her."

"Well her clothes certainly didn't help. I imagine the poor creature was rather self-conscious about her appearance."

"Why do you say that?"

"Didn't you notice how she kept trying to pull her sleeves down? Or the way she fidgeted with her collar? Not that it did much good poor thing. That gown was far too short and entirely unsuitable. I will have to contact Madame Charlotte first thing in the morning to get her some descant clothes. I dare say it should help her feel a bit more comfortable."

"I hadn't thought about it, but I do think your right."

" _Hmm._ " Lois grunted. As far as she was concerned that was an absolute truth.

"But I still don't understand why she seemed so frightened of us. After all I thought she wanted to come to England."

"Well I am sure Bruce has the answer…..he always seems too." Lois begrudgingly acknowledged. She had never been her dour cousin's biggest fan.

"Yes, but he certainly wasn't much help tonight. I'll have to talk to him about it tomorrow. Shall I invite him to dinner?"

"If you must."

Clark smiled at his wife's begrudging hospitality.

"Always the eager hostess."

"Only if the company is agreeable."

"Well don't worry about it. Dinah will be here and that should take some pressure off."

"Thank heaven for that at least."

Dinah always had the ability to get people to talk and be at ease with one another. In another life she would have made a wonderful Parson, for she was so apt and listening to other's problems.

"But where I would like to know was Bruce skulking off to _hmm_? You know he hates that grand coffin he calls a house, and the idea of social calls is absolutely ludicrous."

"Perhaps it was a matter of commerce."

" _Huh!_ Fat chance. The only business sense my dear cousin has is how to spend the fortune others earn for him."

Clark stiffened at his wife's callous words. He never understood why the two of them could not hold each other with the high regard that he held for both of them.

"Well either way it is his matter not ours."

"Diplomatic to the end." Lois muttered as she went to tell the cook to remove Bruce Wayne's plate from the table.

Clark wondered though, where had Bruce gone?


	7. Chapter 6: Secrets

**OK** **I know Diana's life seems kinda depressing at the moment, but I promise it will get better for her.**

 **Please Review.**

 **Chapter 6: Secrets**

 _London, September 1843: 9:00 o'clock that Evening._

 ** _Bruce,_**

He walked down the dark street, pulling his collar up against the slight drizzle of rain that still persisted.

His clothing didn't mark him as anything remarkable. It would have been very easy for a passerby to distinguish him as a sailor and perhaps if they had a knowledgeable mind as a captain, but nothing more.

This suited him fine.

Drawing attention to himself, especially at this time of night, would not be advisable. A notion that apparently had not crossed the mind of the well-dressed gentleman on the opposite side of the street.

He was a portly man with a thick mustache and arrogant air. He was wearing a fine waist coat and top hat. That alone marked him as a man of means but the real teller was how he would stop every block or so to examine the scenery and check once more to be sure his gold watch was keeping time.

A more sensible man would be more careful where and when he flaunted his wealth but this poor fool seemed oblivious to the settings in which he found himself.

 _Most likely new money._ Bruce thought to himself as he trudged along at his rather slow pace.

Even more proof of the man's lack of awareness was that he had failed to notice that he was being followed, and that he had been continually for the past hour and a half.

Bruce himself had been following him up and down various streets at a discreet distance since he noticed him. In an attempt to save the misguided buffoon from his own folly.

The gentleman may have missed his presence but he knew any would be muggers would not. And so he had offered invaluable protection for the arrogant sod. Determined to see him safely home, for even the wife of a fool deserves a living husband.

At last the gentleman climbed the steps into a rather gaudy townhouse in a newer section of the city.

Bruce watched for a moment from the street as the door opened and light flooded the sidewalk.

A short woman with a double chin and mousy features opened the door and smiled with delight at the man. He happily kissed her on both cheeks before pulling a small parcel from his coat pocket and depositing it in her chubby hands. With a squeal of delight she threw her arms around his neck as assaulted his face with kisses. The man laughed and freed himself from her chocking embrace. Immediately she ushered him inside with all the fuss and care of a mother hen. As the door closed Bruce could hear her chastising him for not removing his boots.

"Really Peter Dear! Your slippers are by the fire."

Her words echoed down the street which was once again returned to darkness.

He stood for a moment, watching the door, almost as if he hoped it would open and a kind voice would beckon him in, chastising him for wearing his boots on the carpet.

He walked on.

He was far from where he needed to be, the gentleman's detour had put him off course and Bruce Wayne was a man who didn't waste time.

Quickening his pace he wove his way through the streets with the ease of a native.

As he walked his thoughts turned to Diana.

He felt guilty over leaving the way he did but he knew it was for her own good. She would never give them a chance as long as she had him to hide behind. That much was made clear the moment she met Lois and Clark.

 _What a disaster._ He remembered.

No what they all needed was some alone time, without him. That was the only way they would start getting to know one another.

The image of a tearful 15 year old with raven hair begging him to stay came to mind but he quickly banished it.

He had come to care for Diana over the past 3 months. He had come to view her as a little sister, one he wanted to protect and shelter. He had never had any siblings of his own so during their time together he had effectively transferred all the loyalty and protective instincts he would have given to a brother or sister of his own over to her.

But now that delightful fantasy was at an end. For she was in England now with her own family. And although his feelings of brotherly affection still remained as fierce as ever he did not wish for them to hinder her connection with her real relations.

 _But I will make sure you are safe Diana._

It was this mental promise that drove him through the rain to a rather modest dwelling of redbrick.

He knocked and the door was opened by the owner.

A fidgety man was wasps of grey hairs springing from his head and the wide eyed look of an owl.

Seeing his visitor the middle aged man jumped and motioned him inside, quick to take his hat and coat.

After closing the door the man he lit a candle and beckoned him towards the study.

Once inside the man lit various lamps and candles until the room was sufficiently lit. Then indicating a chair for Bruce he himself sat himself behind an impressive oak desk.

Once seated the man's nervous demeanor evaporated to reveal his true nature. He smiled broadly at the man across from him, his white teeth gleaming against dark skin. He addressed his visitor as an equal of intelligence and status, a visage he would not have been recognized for outside the vicinity of his own modest home.

"It's good to see you Bruce. And what brings the Duke of Gotham to my door?"

"It's good to see you too Lucius. I am afraid I have come with a request."

"Don't you always." The older man chuckled.

"But after what you've done for me how could I refuse? What do you need this time?"

Reaching into his pocket Bruce pulled out a folded slip of paper and slid it across the desk.

Lucius accepted it and casually put on his reading spectacles as he opened the paper.

Upon reading it however he bolted upright in his chair and pulled the lamp to his face to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

"You can't be serious!" he said looking at Bruce dumbfounded.

"I am always serious."

"Yes but, what on earth is it for?"

"Nothing that concerns anyone else."

"It does if you expect me to agree to this! Now explain."

Bruce straightened in his chair as well, he may not have had a spoiled upbringing but he was still a Duke, who for better or worse was accustomed to receiving what he asked for.

"If memory serves Mr. Fox I am allowed control over 10% of my inheritance until my 30th birthday at which time I gain full authority."

"Yes but…"

"And according to your last letter the amount written on that paper if far from the full 10%."

"Well it certainly won't bankrupt you by any means but my job…"

"Your job is to advice and control the remaining 90% along with Mr. Pennyworth."

"But how am I supposed to advice if you don't tell me what's going on!?" Lucius shouted.

"Have I ever given you reason to doubt my judgment?"

Lucius Fox let out a deep sigh and slouched in his chair defeated.

"Be at the bank tomorrow at six."

"Thank you."

 ** _Diana,_**

She sat in the window seat with her knees pulled to her chest as she watched the rainfall gather on the pane and run down its slick surface in fast racing streaks.

Her black dress lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. She had ripped it off the moment Beth left. Though she had been careful not to pull out any buttons this time. Hideous though it was it was the best she had.

Resting her head on her knees she glanced about the room…her room.

It held little interest for her and she barely remembered the items she was looking at, but she was trying to distract her brain from replaying the evening's events over and over again as it seemed so willing to do.

Standing she stood on the edge of the rug, crinkling her toes into the warm fibers. It was pink, white, and gold. Set into a design that was clearly trying to imitate the elaborate majesty of the carpet designs of the Persians.

Hunching down she ran her hand across the flowery pattern and felt a small amount of smug superiority. She doubted an ignorant Englishman would know the difference but the inferior quality of the rug was quite obvious to her keen eye. She had spent her whole life in splendor and wealth, where a Persian carpet of exceptional quality was a regular sight.

Straightening she took in the rest of the room.

Truthfully it should have been a freeing size after the confined space of the ship. But her small room in that wooden hull had come to feel secure and safe, making this room feel too large and empty, like she would rattle around like a pebble in a bucket.

Odd she thought since this room could fit in a corner of her chambers back in the palace and she never recalled feeling swallowed up by that space.

The bed was of dark wood with a canopy of pink damask that matched the bedding. Across the room was an armoire also of a dark glossy wood. As well as a full length mirror and an ornate dressing screen with gold gilt and pink upholstery decorating it.

The walls were white with elegant molding around the ceiling and a variety of charcoal drawings of various nature scenes and animals hung on the walls.

The fireplace was across from the bed and a nice fire was burning, giving the room a rosy glow that matched the decorating.

There were two large windows looking out over the street. They were dressed with thick drapes of pink and white, and one had a window seat that overflowed with pillows.

Moving her eyes back to the foot of the bed she found at its base her trunk.

Kneeling down she undid the latch and pushed back the lid.

Pushing past her other dresses and various layers of underclothes that she had never worn she searched for her nightgown.

Finding the sleeve she pulled put the fabric wouldn't move.

She tried again but only heard the sound of seams beginning to pull.

Letting go she began to yank articles out of the trunk in a fury to free the nightgown, throwing them across the floor. Happily marring the pink perfection.

Her nail scratched against something as she removed a petticoat from the box.

It was the Jewelry chest.

She ceased her mission.

Putting both hands down into the deep trunk she lifted out the chest and placed it in her lap.

The firelight reflected off the jewels as they winked at her.

Reverently she caressed the case, outlining the flowers and gold trimmings with her fingers.

This was her last link to her mother, to home.

Closing her eyes she saw her homeland…vast sweeping desserts, waving palm trees, the endless blue of the sea, the soft laughter of her sisters as they played in the garden, the calming sound of her mother's voice drifting like music across the marble halls, the sound of bells and drums as the musicians played to the amusement of the royal women and the sweet scent of Jasmine and frankincense that clung to the silks as they billowed in the breeze.

Tears leaked from beneath her closed lids as her heart ached to be there once again.

She was from another world.

One of beauty and grace.

A place that those who she must now call her family would never see, but only hear of through story and song.

She might as well have been something from myth or a legend.

"I may have to live here…but I will never forget those who raised me."

Lifting the chest once more she placed it back inside the trunk and began to bury it beneath layers of clothing.

She wanted to hide it from the world, to hold on to this last piece of her past as selfishly as she could. Let them make her over in their image, she would learn their ways, adopt their customs and dress, even speak their hateful language, but this…..this was hers…and she would never share it with anyone.

A small piece of her hoped that one day she would come to care for these people, and hoped that they would care for her….but a part of her would never belong here.

"I am Lady Diana Princeton, but I am also a Princess. And I will never forget that."

Hiding her treasure once more she put on her night dress and crawled into bed, burrowing beneath the covers, and wishing she was anywhere but there.

 _I wish Bruce was here._ Her tired mind thought as she fell into a dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter 7: Family Reunion

**Ta Da! Longest Chapter I have ever written!**

 **Thank you so much for all the reviews, I live for the feedback, especially the constructive type.**

 **Thank you for reading and Please Review!**

 **Chapter 7: Family Reunion**

 _Kent Townhouse September 23, 1843_

 ** _Diana,_**

"My Lady…My Lady? It's time to get up."

Diana rolled over in an attempt to remain in the pleasant void of sleep.

"Lady Diana, GET UP!"

Diana jumped at the commanding note in the servant's voice and turned to see herself staring into the unamused eyes and crossed arms of Beth.

"Good, now we need to get you dressed. Your cousin has made plans for the two of you and you have already slept through breakfast."

"My cousin?"

"The Countess. Now let's see what we're working with here." Said Beth as she began to open the trunk.

"STOP!" shouted Diana.

The maid straightened and raised an eyebrow at the girl.

"Those are _my_ things." She demanded as she slammed the lid back down.

Beth studied her. They were on eye level with one another but that was because Beth had a fancy for higher heeled shoes and Diana was currently barefoot.

A little smile of respect appeared on the maid's face as she took a step back from the box.

Diana may have thought the servant impertinent, but Beth was no fool.

She knew that left to their own devices the girl's family would pity and coddle her until she suffocated. Treat her like a china doll instead of a living breathing girl. What was needed was an adult, to give her a guiding hand and show her that she did not need to be the one in control because that job was already taken care of. And Beth was more than capable of filling that role.

"Yes, and my job is to make sure you put them on."

Moving Diana's hand from the lid Beth once more opened the trunk.

"Sweet heavenly days what a mess! No wonder you didn't want me to see this. Didn't anyone ever teach you how to fold your clothes?"

Diana's chin rose into the air with pride.

"I had servants for that."

" _Huh_ well you don't here. My job is to get you dressed not encourage the sin of sloth."

"The sin of what?"

"Being messy."

"Oh."

"Now you pull everything out of that trunk right now and I'll show you how to fold it correctly."

Diana didn't feel quite so superior anymore as she meekly did as she was told.

Beth didn't so much as glance at the jewelry chest and Diana breathed a sigh of relieve that the maid wasn't going to question her on it.

"Now, let us see what we have to work with….hmm they didn't send you with much did they?"

"These are English clothes. I did not wear _these_ at home."

"Well you are in England now so English clothes is what you'll be wearing."

Beth set to work teaching Diana how to fold and having her repack her trunk. During the process they both decided that the Black dress would be best, even though she had worn it the day before. Then came the true battle, getting dressed.

"You can't be serious!"

"Do I look like a jester to you?"

"But I'll die from heat!"

"Don't speak utter nonsense and use some good sense. Do you think every other lady is at risk of dying from being modest?"

"Perhaps, besides this isn't modest, it is imprisonment."

"That is enough. You will become accustom the more you wear it, and I will not allow you to leave this room partially clothed."

To make her point Beth widened her stance and placed her hands on her hips accentuating the hard muscles she had earned from a lifetime of hard work.

Diana contemplated making a break for the door, but she knew it was a fight already lost.

"Fine, what goes first?"

"The chemise."

Then came stockings and boots, pantalets, corset (that went over well), and layer upon layer of petticoats.

The added fullness of the skirt made the black dress even shorter than it had been before, something that Beth said simply would have to be endured.

"There!" Beth exclaimed as she finished brushing through Diana's thick curls.

The maid had pulled back her raven locks from the sides with a black ribbon tying it high on the back of her head; so her hair cascaded down her back in a waterfall of smoothly sculpted curls.

"It's lucky for us that the Black fit best. Seeing as how the family is in mourning. It looks good that you are being supportive."

"What is mourning?"

"When a family member or friend dies then you go into mourning for an appropriate amount of time. Meaning that you do not take part in society and all articles of clothing and Jewelry are black. When in half mourning lilac and grey are also acceptable. Of course white is also appropriate for full mourning but most don't use it."

"How long will I be in mourning?"

"Oh your time is up. You see the previous Earl was your uncle, which means you were only to be in mourning for him for two months. But that time already passed while you were on that ship."

Diana nodded her head to show she understood while Beth attempted to correct the lace collar which was slightly askew.

"And what of my cousins? How long must they mourn?"

"Master Clark and Lady Caroline will mourn for one year as well as Lady Lois, out of respect. Of course the Lady Caroline is still a little girl and is not expected to wear black at all times, just when relatives and close friends visit. But your Aunt, the Dowager Countess will mourn for an additional year, so two."

"That seems like an awfully long time."

"It would be disrespectful to do any less."

"Disrespectful to who? He's dead he doesn't know how long anyone wears black for."

Beth gave her a look that suggested that she had asked enough questions.

"If the family did not follow the rules of mourning then others would talk about how they didn't really love your uncle and that they were shaming him after death."

"But why does that matter?"

"Because it would ruin the family's good name and reputation."

"But why?"

"Good heavens child do you ever stop asking questions!"

"Sorry….but why?"

" _Ugh_! Because that is the way things are and you would do best to follow the rules. Life is unkind to a girl with a bad reputation."

Diana wondered what a bad reputation might entail but kept her wonderings to herself.

Luckily for Beth there was a knock at the door followed by the entrance of Lois.

"Ah Diana you're awake." Lois said smiling.

Diana managed to smile in return.

"Good you're dressed Madame Charlotte is waiting in the yellow drawing room."

"Where is my cousin?"

Lois waved her hand as if her husband was of little consequence.

"He left for the office hours ago. But he'll be back in time for dinner. He invited Bruce so we shall see if he arrives as well."

Immediately Diana's face filled with delight and her azure eyes became alert.

"Bruce is coming back?"

"Unfortunately yes. But we can talk about that later, come, I think you are going to like Madame."

Lois smiled as she took the younger woman's hand and locked arms leading her out of the room and down the hallway with Beth close on their heels.

The yellow drawing room was aptly named. Not a color could be seen that was not a varying shade of yellow except for the occasional sight of wooden floors or furniture legs. Apparently Lois had an obsession with decorating each room in a single color.

Madame Charlotte was an unmemorable woman of average height and a plain face that sported a pair of perfectly round glasses that mirrored the shape of her face. She looked to Diana like a blank piece of canvas waiting for someone else to add the details. Each feature she possessed seemed to melt into the next with no clear definition.

She had pale and lifeless blonde hair that was turning white at the crown and was slicked down over the sides of her face into a low bun at the base of her neck. Her hair was so thin that in places it was possible to see her scalp through the strands.

Her eyelashes and what little eyebrows she had were also blonde and the lack of color in her face made her look in a constant state of surprise. Her lips were so thin as to seem nonexistent and her nose looked like it had been bashed in with a frying pan because it laid squashed against her face like a cat's.

Her neck was abnormally large and she had a receding chin that made her whole face look like it was sliding down into the folds of her neck. Her hazel eyes darted back and forth at dizzying speeds as she took in everything about her.

When her eye caught sight of Diana her head jerked and her hazel eyes snapped as she took in every aspect of her appearance like a horse seller who has just found a prize.

Lois greeted the woman who bobbed an impatient curtsy in response before rattling something off that Diana had absolutely no hopes of understanding.

What was this woman speaking? Surely her English wasn't that poor…maybe she was just speaking uncommonly fast.

She strained to catch a few words as the little mouse continued to spew unintelligible syllables whilst gesturing to Diana herself.

No good, she didn't understand a word. If those even were words. It had a slightly familiar ring to it but that just might have been because she was trying so hard to understand that her mind was playing tricks.

To her horror Lois began to gurgle the same uncomprehend-able gibberish and Diana began to fear that something was wrong with her hearing.

She turned to Beth for answers. The maid immediately grasped the girl's confusion and silently mouthed the word _French_.

Diana breathed a sigh of relief and nodded thank you to the maid before redirecting her attention to the conversing women.

Not English then.

" _Allons au travail_!" Madame Charlotte said clapping her hands in the air with force.

Instantly two assistants appeared at her side waiting for instruction.

The mouse, as Diana had begun to think of her, gave them quick and sharp commands and the two advanced towards Diana and began to rid her of her current clothing. Meanwhile Beth covered the windows with muslin to let the light in and keep unwanted eyes out.

The assistants had managed to unbutton the black dress before she even realized what was happening.

As soon as she did however a scowl marred her face and she began to wrestle away the grabby hands as they attempted to unlace her clothing.

It had taken forever to put on this torture chamber of cloth and uncomfortable as it may have been she wasn't about to go through the whole process again.

Lois, Beth, and Madame Charlotte took notice of the struggle and attempted to intervene but it was already too late. Diana was gripping a wrist in each hand and holding her captives practically immobile in her grasp.

The assistants looked back at her with wide and frightened eyes as she held them all but aloft in her clutches.

"Do _you_ understand English?" she asked them in a commanding tone.

The now whimpering women nodded swiftly yes.

"Good! Because it took forever to put this thing on and I will not be taking it off!"

And with that she gave a little shove as she released their wrists and the pair scurried behind the checkered cotton skirt of their mistress.

Lois let out a snort as she struggled to compose herself and Beth was shooting righteous fire from her eyes but Diana took no notice of either of them. Raising her chin in the air with royal pride she continued to stare down her nose at the little women and their odd looking commander.

Madame Charlotte turned to Lois and pleaded in a flurry of French for assistance.

Still trying to contain her amusement Lois held up a hand to shield herself from the exasperated woman's words.

"Diana…(muffled laughter)…Madame must have your measurements in order to make you a new wardrobe. You must let Claudia and Maurine help you get undressed so that Madame can measure you otherwise your new clothes will not fit properly."

Not convinced the irate teenager turned to Lois with hands on hips, the sleeves of her dress slipping comically off her shoulders and down her arms.

"Do you realize how long it took to get dressed?"

"It would have gone faster had you been more cooperative." Beth said adding her two sense to the mix.

"Thank you Beth that will do." Said Lois who was once again serious.

Turning her attention back to Diana she took her in for a moment and a cool, confident, smile appeared on her lips as she noticed the girl's blatant refusal to do as she was told.

Lois liked nothing better than a challenging battle of wills, and rarely did she lose.

Taking a step forward she smiled kindly at Diana who immediately became suspicious of the change in tactics.

Diana may not have understood society's standards but she did understand women. Her entire existence had depended on it, so much so that many times in her childhood she fancied that men were a mere illusion and women were the true rulers of the earth. An easy thing to believe from inside a Harem.

"Diana if you do not wish to have Claudia and Maurine's help that is fine."

Diana slid her hands from her hips and let them hang at her sides, while eyeing her cousin's wife with suspicion. She couldn't see her but from across the room Beth was also giving Lois a rather choice expression.

Still oozing confidence Lois spread her arms as if she was some great benefactor granting a gift upon supplicants.

"But, if you do not allow Madame to do her work then you will not have any new clothes. And without proper clothing you will have to stay in your room. Which includes dinner tonight."

Immediately Diana's hostilities evaporated and Lois knew that she had assessed her feelings correctly.

 _She wouldn't! Would she? But she can't! Bruce is coming tonight I have to see him!...Fine. You win, this round._

With resignation she uncrossed her arms and held them out for the assistance to take the dress. Which they did, cautiously, until Diana stood clothed merely in a chemise and pantalets.

 _3 hours later_

"5 foot 7 inches!" Lois declared in surprise as she strained to read the tiny numbers on the measuring tape.

" _Oui_." Madame Charlotte confirmed in equal surprise and slight admiration.

Madame Charlotte and Lois had planned an entire wardrobe for Diana. One that would carry her through the season and into spring and had discussed at length fabrics, style's patterns, and colors, deciding that the jewel tones would suit the dark haired beauty best.

The last order of business was to measure her height in order to be sure that the new gowns would be of a proper length, as opposed to the horrendously unflattering dresses she currently possessed. Dresses that upon seeing them Madame had demanded they be burned for they were painful to the eye.

Driven by new urgency the woman promised that by the end of the day Diana would be wearing one of her creations so she would not have to spend another day dressed like a convent's novice.

Diana tried to look at the numbers too but Beth wouldn't let her because she would mess with the tape by moving.

"And you say she is only 15?" Madame asked in English.

"YOU CAN SPEAK ENGLISH!" Diana accused and Beth gave her a nun to subtle jab to the ribs.

Diana swatted at the maid.

"I'll get to you in a minute."

"Oh you will hmm? It is rude to be so abrasive to a guest."

"But she can speak English and has spent the whole time speaking a language I can't understand, how is that not rude?" she demanded.

"Because _she_ is a guest, and a foreigner so it would be rude to expect her to speak English." Beth clarified.

"منافق." Diana hissed in her own native tongue.

"Enough!" Madame commanded causing a cease fire.

"Lady Princeton, I am sorry I have not spoken ze English with you, but I find it most difficult."

Instantly Diana felt guilty for accusing this woman who was only trying to do her job and hung her head in shameful regret.

"I am sorry Madame, my mother always said my tongue was my worst fault."

" _Merci Mademoiselle_ , your mother is a wise woman."

Diana straightened with pride at that and smiled at the little seamstress.

Madame Charlotte and her assistants packed up their things and bid their hostess farewell before climbing into a carriage and disappearing down the endless streets.

By some miracle Beth managed to once again dress Diana and the two decided on a truce.

The rest of the afternoon was spent pleasantly with Lois giving Diana a tour of the house and the two women enjoying a small luncheon in the garden.

The garden was unlike anything she had ever seen before and so she decided to continue her exploration of it while Lois went back to her normal tasks.

The garden was small, smaller than her bedroom but the wild beauty of it erased any failing of space.

There were flower beds flanking the center green. Between bare spots clusters of flowers still grew like wispy hairs on a balding man's head. Some of the flowers she recognized but many she did not. She took special note of each one as she walked the short brick path.

She wondered why such hideous brown patches were allowed among the displaced flowers. A slightly chilled breeze blew against her skirt giving the answer. The delicate blooms did not like the cold and would soon disappear till spring.

 _I wish I could disappear too. I'd sleep all winter long, until things were beautiful again._

At the end there was a simple wooden bench nestled beneath an arch where one odd pink flower defied nature and still bloomed amongst the greenery. Curiosity unbridled Diana inspected the little blossom thoroughly, feeling almost a kinship to the stubborn bud that bloomed even when its very nature told it to give up.

Lowering herself carefully in her cumbersome dress she sat on the bench and looked over the small garden that glowed with the late afternoon sun.

Rosy gold rays of light reflected softly off the three stories of white brick onto the grassy square surrounded on three sides by large box hedges. It was like a secret world where the bustle and noise from the street just beyond the line of connecting brick dwellings could not reach you except for a soft muffling of pleasant musical rhythm.

"It's not so bad here." She said to the flowers and hedges.

"It's much prettier than I thought it would be, if only it just wasn't so completely different. But maybe that's a good thing, after all there will be much less to remind me of home this way."

A small tear trickled down her lashes and dropped to her hand. With annoyance she brushed it away.

"Cry, cry, cry, that's all you do. STOP IT Diana! You mustn't think of Dagra as home anymore, this is your home now… _this is my home_...And so far they seem nice, Lois is quite pleasant and very amusing, not at all as I thought she would be."

With the exception of Hippolyta who held so much fascination for her Diana had imagined all English women to be like Laurel, quiet and meek, wearing drab colors and never speaking unless spoken to. Her young mind hadn't taken into consideration the idea that Laurel's behavior was born much more from her being a servant than her being English. In fact Laurel hadn't been English at all, but once again this was beyond her knowledge.

Diana smiled as she thought of Lois. She liked the woman very much, in many ways she reminded her of Nadira, though perhaps more easily agitated. Lois was strong-willed and clever, she was funny and engaging and Diana had greatly enjoyed their afternoon together and would have been pleased to know that her company had also lifted her hostess's spirits.

"Yes, I will be alright." She said to the empty garden with more conviction than she had felt since arriving in England.

Then a broad smile of pure delight illuminated her beautiful face making it radiate happiness.

"And Bruce lives here, I have a friend already, everything will be fine."

Standing she reentered the house, humming an off color tune that the sailors had taught her.

 _5 o'clock that evening_

 ** _Clark,_**

Coming home at the end of the day was a pleasant experience Clark looked forward to. He considered a happy house the greatest achievement of a man. But tonight he received an affectionate kiss from his wife that made the event a moment worth savoring.

For even though he anticipated his return to the family hearth every day with great expectation, these fantasies were nearly always destroyed upon walking through the front door. He was an idealist of the acutest degree.

Instead of a cozy fire and his wife smiling with joy at his return and the two of them idling away the twilight in content conversation and comfortable laughter he was usually met by weeping servants and the cold miserable eyes of his wife who failed to conceal her contempt with him and everything around her.

But tonight, Lois smiled! She smiled at him and he fell in love with her all over again. It had been so long since he had seen her even remotely happy that he had almost forgotten what a true smile looked like; but there it was, and for now at least, she was happy.

"You're beautiful."

"What did you say?" Lois asked and Clark blushed realizing he had spoken aloud.

Lois's smile widened. Even his bashful behavior which she normally found so irritating did not bother her. A true miracle indeed.

"You look beautiful tonight Lois."

"Why thank you Mr. Kent." She pressed another kiss to his cheek and then went back to organizing dinner; the guests would be arriving within the hour.

Grinning from ear to ear like a foolish school boy Clark strolled down the hall to his office.

 ** _Diana,_**

Diana flipped through the stack of papers on the desk. She wasn't looking for anything, just curious.

A bank note.

Some loose pieces of stationary.

An old newspaper.

A half written column article on the back of a letter.

A to-do list or three.

She had just reached what appeared to be a scribbling drawing of a man about halfway through the stack. It was cartoonish and fun.

Pulling it from its burial place she held it up to the oil lamp for a better look.

It was of a man, he sported a cheesy grin, impossibly large muscles, and he wore what appeared to be an ordinary suit with a cape billowing behind him except for a rather meticulously detailed drawing of an S on both lapels of his suit as well as an almost hidden one on his cape. The crest was far too intricate for the rest of the picture, betraying a level of skill and an eye for detail that the rest of the drawing lacked.

She was so absorbed in her findings that the sound of the door opening made her jump; still clinging to the drawing in her hand.

"Fancy meeting you here." Clark smiled as Diana scurried to straighten the papers on his desk.

"I-I am sorry, Lois said I could look around."

Clark walked forward.

"Of course you may, what have you found there?"

Sheepishly she held out the drawing, certain that his good mood would disappear at this invasion of privacy.

Instead he roared with laughter that echoed throughout the small room, vibrating off the walls with impressive force.

The pure amusement emanating off of Clark made her relax and brought a smile to her face as well.

"Let me see that."

Diana obliged handing over the paper. After glancing at it Clark once more erupted in a fit of earth shaking laughter.

"What is so funny?"

"I had forgotten all about this, I suppose Lois was rummaging around in here and left it on my desk."

"But what is it?"

Still trying to contain himself Clark studied the drawing.

"When Bruce and I were boys, we fantasized about being knights and heroes. We each made up a hero and enacted story after story of their daring adventures, brothers in chivalry. Anyway this drawing was one I made of my character. Bruce made one for himself that was much more advanced than mine and I admired it so that he drew the crest for me."

Clark pointed to the S's.

"To make it fair I added my own improvement's to his drawing…. (chuckle) A pair of spiked ear like things on his mask to make him look more intimidating."

Diana smiled at the image of a young Bruce drawing himself as a hero.

"What is his name?" She asked motioning to the drawing.

Clark suddenly flushed with embarrassment and his eyes grew in size behind his thick round glasses.

"I-um, I don't remember."

Diana didn't believe him but understood he would appreciate it if she didn't press the question.

"I wanted to thank you Diana."

"Thank me? For what?"

Clark placed the drawing in a desk drawer and then crossed the room to an impressive looking multi-drawered cabinet.

"I want to thank you for what you've done for Lois."

She was hopelessly confused by this statement.

"I have done nothing."

"Oh but you have!"

Clark removed a velvet drawstring pouch from the cabinet and turned back to Diana his face now serious and somewhat pained.

"My wife hasn't been happy for some time, not since….but there is still time..."

Diana felt he wasn't speaking to her anymore, but instead was trying to convince himself of something.

Snapping back to the present Clark beamed at her and finished his original thought.

"Your company has lifted her spirits more than anything else, and for that I thank you."

Not sure what to do she remained silent.

"This is for you." Clark said holding out the pouch.

Reaching out her hand she took it and undid the string, dumping the contents into her open palm.

Out fell a beautiful ruby that glittered a deep red. It was nearly the size of her thumb and was centered on a chain of tightly linked gold rings that were so small they almost appeared to be jewels themselves. It was magical to look at, the Jewel almost seemed alive as its rich color danced in the light of the lamp.

"It's a Ferronnière." Clark said. "You wear it on your forehead, like a tiara but lower." He took a pause enjoying the sight of her admiring the gem.

"Ma had it sent to me, she said she wanted you to have it as soon as you arrived."

"Why?" Diana asked and Clark was reminded that she would naturally be at a loss to the significance of the gift.

"It was your mother's."

Her eyes widened and she held the headband to her chest with reverence. For so long she had wanted something of Hippolyta's, anything to give the woman some tangibility, to mean that she had been real and not just a story that she could never touch.

" _Thank you._ " She whispered and Clark enveloped her in a loving hug.

"You are here now, and all of us couldn't be happier, we love you Diana."

Just then the door burst open again and Lois eagerly wretched her from Clark's brotherly embrace.

"Diana hurry, the dress has arrived!"

 _7:00 o'clock_

"Dinah! Oliver! Come in, Come in!"

"Clark it is so good to see you! Mama and Papa should be here soon."

"Won't that liven things up." Joked Oliver and his wife sent him a scolding look, but she couldn't maintain it for long before bursting into a smile once more. Oliver gave her a cheeky wink and then led her into the drawing room behind Clark.

"So don't keep us in suspense Clark, what is she like?" Dinah implored, curiosity palpable.

"Yes, is she quite the proper little heathen?" Oliver asked eagerly.

"Oliver! Please, behave yourself."

"If everyone else is busy behaving themselves then at least one of us will have to show the girl a good time."

Dinah rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if to call upon a higher power for guidance.

Clark laughed, it was good to see the two of them again.

Just then Lois joined them and happily greeted her guests. After dispensing with the pleasantries all eagerly questioned her as to the whereabouts of their young cousin.

"She'll be down in a minute."

 _Upstairs_

Diana continued to watch her reflection in the full length mirror with awe.

Countless times over her childhood she had heard other's whisper about her beauty. Nura had done her best to silence them, not wishing her daughter to become vain and pompous as so many others in the harem before her. But still the admiration remained, though she had never taken any notice of it, her looks were very secondary to her; after all every woman in the harem was described as a great beauty, even if they were not. She had supposed it mere flattery, but standing before the mirror she understood, she finally saw what others had seen her whole life. She _was_ beautiful, as gorgeous as a goddess.

The dress had arrived in a box decorated with painted roses and stuffed with crisp white tissue paper with her name on a label written in sweeping calligraphy. _Lady Diana Princeton._

Lois and Beth had torn into it like eager toddlers and had gasped upon seeing Madame Charlotte's creation. When they had lifted it from the box Diana felt the breathe be knocked from her lungs.

Immediately they had helped her dress and now she stood admiring the effect.

It was an evening gown of deep crimson red velvet that sloped off the shoulders in what Beth called a most risqué manner; into a low neckline of several elegant pleats that dipped toward the reverse triangular shaped bodice. The sleeves were slightly puffed and edged with thin red ribbon and delicate white lace. The skirt was full and had a slight train that flowed across the floor like water; concealing the beautiful slippers also of crimson velvet that now replaced her heinous brown boots.

She turned once more watching the liquid like fabric swish across the floor with her slightest movement. The bodice was so stiff that she knew bending over in anyway was a complete impossibility.

Even if she hadn't been restricted by the rib crushing corset it wouldn't have been possible to be anything but completely upright in the starched bodice. As a result she appeared even taller than normal, the short puffed sleeves ended 2/3rds of the way down her upper arm leaving the rest of her slim arms tantalizingly exposed. The lowness of the neckline elongated her neck and the deep red set off her complexion to perfection.

Gently she brushed her fingers through the skirt and glorified in the softness of the fabric, so different from the coarse wool she had worn on the ship and not unlike the silks that had adorned her in childhood.

An impish smile spread across her face as she looked in the mirror before spinning like a top. The skirt spooled about her in a blaze of red and she felt the heaviness of the skirt and multiple petticoats lift as she spun faster and faster.

Laughing and out of breath she came to a stop and looked back at her reflection.

Her smile faded as she remembered the last time she had excitedly twirled before a mirror in a new dress.

Gratefully Beth interrupted before her thoughts had a chance to delve to far back.

"Such nonsense child." Beth smiled at her despite the reprimand. "Now come take a seat and I'll fix your hair."

Diana obeyed and sat on the stool before the vanity.

Beth began running the brush through her curls with speed and practice.

"What shall we do with these locks?"

"Beth,"

"Yes my lady?"

"I do not like the way Lois does her hair…is that the way all English women must wear it?"

Beth stopped brushing and met the girl's eyes in the mirror.

"It is the fashion…..but I have personally always felt that fashion is more of a guideline."

Suddenly excited the maid began pulling the brush through the strands again.

"You know little miss, my mum used to work as a maid to an actress! Back when the Prince Regent was becoming all high and mighty, what a slosh of a man; but she taught me a thing or too, and I believe I just might remember some of it."

 _Downstairs_

Beth had arranged her hair in a soft Grecian style that harkened back to an earlier age and gave her appearance something of the ethereal. A long spiraling curl wisped down her neck and draped over her collar bone. On her forehead glittered her mother's ferronnière; framed by her magnificent upswept raven hair that framed her face and elongated her neck, setting off the blood red ruby to perfection.

Against this trio of red, raven, and porcelain white, her azure eyes burned more brilliantly than stars. She entered the parlor with confidence, feeling much more at ease about this meeting than when she met Clark and Lois…though she was still apprehensions about what her cousin and aunt would think of her, she did so want them to like her.

Immediately the atmosphere of the room changed. The familiar and pleasant chatter ceased and all eyes turned to her. Diana stood tall under their gazes and curtsied in greeting like a proper English lady.

By the time she had risen Dinah was already off the settee and crossing the room to greet her.

Taking the younger girl in her arms Dinah enveloped her in a loving hug and kissed her on the cheek. When she drew back Diana saw that there were tears in her grey eyes.

"I can't believe you are here at last! We have waited so long."

Again Dinah hugged her and out of instinct Diana returned the embrace. Without realizing it she found herself trying to comfort this complete stranger who held her as if she was afraid to let go.

"It's alright, I am here now, you don't need to worry, it will be alright." Diana repeated like a mantra in Dinah's ear while the older woman tried to contain her tears.

It was the first time she was able to glimpse the suffering her family had endured for so many years, and her heart filled with sympathy for them.

The rest of the room remained silent and looked away from Dinah's break down in an attempt to be kind and allow a semblance of privacy for her to accept that the girl she held in her arms was indeed real and living.

Finally her husband crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, shattering the spell.

Dinah recovered herself so quickly that Diana wondered if the previous display of emotions had happened at all.

Smiling with warmth and kindness Dinah took her by the arm and led her to sit between herself and Lois on the Settee. Oliver and Clark took the two chairs across the rug.

Instantly Dinah started in chatting as if the pair were old friends, even graciously giving explanations when Diana looked confused by pretending to explain the topic in question to Oliver who would shrug good-naturedly as if he had no previous knowledge of these simple topics that were in fact secondary nature.

Clark had been right, Dinah had a gift of making others feel comfortable and open up without them even knowing she was doing it. Before she knew it Diana found herself laughing and joking with the four of them as if she had lived among them her whole life.

Dinah was a pretty woman of average height with a heart shaped face and blonde hair that she wore in the same style as Lois. Though Diana felt it suited her delicate features and small forehead better than it did Lois. Her grey eyes marked her as a Lilly, having been the only one of the cousins to have inherited them from their formidable grandmother.

Something of her appearance that Diana did notice as odd was that even though her hair was a rich honey gold blonde her eyebrows were dark black. It should have looked mismatched but it didn't, in fact it made her face much more expressive and her grey eyes pop instead of blending with her lighter hair. Diana strained to see if the roots of Dinah's hair were also black, thinking that perhaps dye had been used to gain a more desirable color, but she found no such evidence. Dinah was just an anomaly.

Oliver on the other hand was the physical opposite of his small and delicate looking wife. He was tall, shorter than Clark or Bruce but still tall. His eyes were brown and his skin was tanned from excessive time in the sun. He was muscular and lounged in his chair with a nonchalant air as if he had been born a prince who can take his pleasure from the world without care.

His mouth smiled easily, and though hidden beneath a fashionable and well-trimmed handlebar mustache and chin puff she could tell that he seemed constantly on the verge of laughter. Like Dinah he also had blond hair, but it was of a much dirtier shade than his wife's.

Diana studied Oliver carefully, occasionally flicking her gaze to Lois and then back again.

Bruce had told her that the pair were cousins, both to each other and himself. She could see some resemblance with Lois, they shared the similar features of dark black hair and aristocratic Roman noses; but Oliver? No as far as she could tell there were no similarities shared between the three of them. Well maybe the height, for Bruce and Oliver that is, Lois was most definitely left out of that equation.

A loud knock at the door interrupted the conversation and the shrill sound of a woman's voice clawed its way into the room. Oliver, Lois, and Clark shared knowing looks and Dinah's face looked both amused and pained.

"Ah, that would be mama."

 _Mama?_ Diana wondered as the double doors burst open with the forbearing of an east wind.

A tall woman who was thin as a pole and had an impossibly long face entered. Her brown dress was wet and caked with mud along the hem, clearly she had walked here. She held an umbrella in her left hand like it was a sword, even though there had been no sign of rain all day.

Her hair was frizzy and grey and sat on top of her head in a messy bun that looked like it was going to slip down over her face as it quivered and bobbed with her every jerky movement. Her eyes were hazel and squinty making her face look pinched and sour like she needed to sneeze.

Behind her tumbled a little man who was barely as tall as Lois and didn't even reach the woman's shoulders. He was similarly disheveled wearing a suit and coat that swallowed his small stature and downright fat proportions.

His gingery hair hung down over his eyes in a fluffy mop making him look like a scruffy dog whose eyes are buried beneath fur. He tilted his head back in order to look about the room and his bushy eyebrows rolled back up his shallow forehead at the sight of Dinah. He gave a childish smile beneath his overgrown beard and raised a fat hand and waved it childishly at her.

Smiling as if this was the most normal thing she had ever seen Dinah gracefully rose from her seat and crossed the floor to the odd looking couple.

She curtsied respectfully to the woman who nodded curtly before returning her gaze to the rest of the assembly, practically stabbing them with her penetrating gaze that held no amusement or mirth.

After greeting the woman Dinah enveloped the little man in a hug, he patted her on the back and gave her a sweet smile that sang of an inner innocence that even a child would envy.

"THERE YOU ARE!" Cried the woman as her eyes found Diana.

Diana jumped at the loud sound of the woman's voice that sounded like a shriek.

"Come over here child!" she commanded and Diana saw little choice but to obey.

"Diana, these are my parents, Lady Mary Chatsworth Lance and Captain Benjamin Lance."

Diana had to fight down the urge to laugh at the idea of the absurd little man being a military captain.

She curtsied deeply in greeting.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Aunt Mary, Uncle Benjamin."

The woman studied her with a critical eye and Diana was struck by the fact that Lady Mary was truly ugly. There was no way around it. In fact calling her ugly was something of a kindness for her appearance was far worse than that when coupled with her sour expression and impatient demeanor.

 _How extraordinary._ Diana thought. Wondering how such a woman could have a daughter as sweet tempered and attractive as Dinah. It was like all the features that didn't work in her own face had magically fallen into place in visage of her daughter.

Uncle Benjamin took her slim hand in his chubby palm and patted it reassuringly, apparently he was aware of what an intimidating figure his wife was.

Diana smiled genuinely at him before having her chin firmly gripped by the unforgiving claws of Aunt Mary and be pulled to her own beady eyes for closer inspection.

After several seconds of deliberation she released the fifteen year old and nodded her head in grave approval.

"You're Polly's girl alright, only one other set of those eyes ever existed in this world and now there just yours."

Diana didn't know what to say to that but apparently Aunt Mary expected a response.

"What's the matter with you girl? Cat got your tongue?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, I just don't have anything to say to you."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew she had messed up. How could she have been so rude!

But to her surprise Mary's face broke into a horsey grin and her nasally laugh vibrated throughout the room.

"You are most certainly my sister's daughter."

She continued to smile as she took Diana by her arm and led her towards the dining room.

 _8:30 Dining Room_

A pleasant conversation had been humming continuously since dinner began. But try as she might Diana just couldn't stay focused on the conversation. Every few seconds she would glance at the double doors to the dining room expecting them to open, hoping they would open, praying they would open.

 _Where is he?_

Lois had said he was coming, but he was so late, maybe he wasn't coming after all.

"So Diana tells about your life in Dagra."

Diana snapped back to reality at Oliver's question and found herself the center of attention as all eyes were turned eagerly towards her.

"W-What do you want to know?"

"Well where did you live for starters, did you really live in a harem surrounded by nothing but eunuchs and women?"

Everyone else leaned in expectantly for her response.

Clearly they all found the idea of living in a world without men incredibly interesting but Diana didn't have the faintest idea why. To her that way of life was normal and held nothing interesting.

"Yes, I grew up at the Sultan's palace as a princess….though Bruce explained to me that I am a lady, not a royal." She wanted to impress them with her understanding of her new status.

"Why of course you are royal." Aunt Mary announced as she battled with her roasted quail.

"Here we go." Mumbled Oliver as he reached for his wine glass and lounged back in his chair like he was expecting a very long and boring sermon to begin.

Mary looked up from her plate and saw the confusion on Diana's face.

"Did that idiot boy not tell you? I knew I should have written it down. Never trust a Wayne to do as he's told."

"I don't understand what you are talking about?"

Mary put down her fork and knife and began to recite the tale.

"We, my dear, are royal. Your grandmother Diana, may she rest in peace, was the daughter of a Greek princess." Mary paused for effect and this time it was Diana's turn to lean in with curiosity.

"Now wait a minute." Interrupted Oliver, much to the annoyance of his mother-in-law.

"That is one part that always bothered me. How do you know for _certain_ , that she was Greek?"

"And how else would you explain a name like Antiope? Now don't interrupt your elders."

Oliver nodded his head and muttered "Fair enough" before once again taking a long sip from his glass.

"Now, Antiope was Greek. From which island I don't recall for she spoke of it very little and then only on her death bed so I am afraid not all of the details are available." She shot an impatient look to Oliver who gave her a debonair smile and refilled his glass.

Diana looked around the table and saw that Dinah and Clark were busy making eye contact with the tablecloth while Lois looked to the ceiling as if to ask God why he was punishing her. They had obviously all heard this story before many times and for them it was nothing more than a fairy tale. But to Aunt Mary it was as true and precious as the gospels.

Only Uncle Benjamin seemed unaffected as he helped himself to another serving of potatoes in gravy.

"She was one of the many daughters of Princess Otrera and Prince Ares. Mother did not know how many sister's Antiope had but she did say that in her delirium at death she rattled off no fewer than twenty names calling them, my dear sisters."

All thoughts of food were now forgotten as Diana devoted her entire attention to this intriguingly mysterious story. Even the others had begun to listen more intently to the familiar tale.

"I don't know why but apparently Antiope's family was extremely suspicious of foreigners, especially male foreigners. So when Antiope fell in love with an impoverished English nobleman her parents were outraged. Otrera demanded that she give him up or leave their home forever. Antiope begged and pleaded with her mother not to make her choose but Otrera was relentless. In the end she chose to go with him back to England and became the wife of Lord George Lilly. Mother was her only child and she never returned to her former home or spoke of them again. Until she came down with the fever; and in her mind's tortured state she called for mother and told her the truth. That we are royalty…except for Oliver."

Everyone laughed at that while Mary returned to her quail and Oliver raised a glass in the air.

"TO THE ROYALS!" He toasted and all responded.

"TO THE ROYALS!" Laughing at the fine joke, all except Mary who continued to eat her meal in silence.

The sound of a man's voice interrupted the gaiety and everyone snapped their heads towards the door.

"May I speak to Lady Diana?"

"BRUCE!" Diana exclaimed with joy as she bolted from her chair and threw her arms around his neck.

The rest watched in astonishment as he returned the gesture before distancing himself and once again addressing his hosts.

"I am sorry I am late but may I speak to her….alone."

"Of course." Clark assured him with a smile. "You may use the study."

Bruce nodded his thanks and then ushered Diana out of the room.

Once in the study she could hold in her excitement no longer and happily twirled before him showing off her new dress.

"Isn't it lovely? Do I look quite English now?"

Bruce smiled and nodded his head.

"Quite English, and beautiful. To think this is the same girl who refused to wear a dress for three days."

Diana smiled more brilliantly then before and bit her bottom lip with delight.

He had called her beautiful.

Her young heart was all a flutter, but strangely more than that she was just grateful to see him again.

"I like them." She said knowing that this would be the matter that caused him the most concern.

Sure enough she saw his stance relax slightly at the news. Not so much that a casual observer would have noticed, but already Diana felt she knew him better than most.

"That is good to hear. They are good people Diana….I would never have left you with those I did not trust."

Once again she smiled at him.

He was her only friend….it was true she liked her family but they did not know her yet.

"I was afraid when you left that you wouldn't come back." Her accent thickened on the words betraying to him that this fear was still a reality.

He towered above her like a mountain and his eyes looked down on her with sympathy and brotherly love.

"I will always come back….but I do have to leave again."

Her smile fell from her face and she took a step away.

He expected her to rant and rave at him, angry and afraid to be left alone. But instead she nodded her head solemnly and he realized that he had underestimated her.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know, at least a few months."

"…..I will miss you."

"And I'll miss you. Clark knows how to get a message to me, I can't always reply but…I would like to know how you are getting on."

"I don't wish my letters to be read." She said stiffly and Bruce had to once again remind himself that she had grown up in a world where privacy was practically non-existent.

"No one will read your letters except the person you intended to, you have my word."

Suddenly looking like the Princess she was she gave him a command.

"You must come back as soon as possible."

Bruce's lips curled into an amused smile at her presumption to giving him orders.

"Don't worry Princess, I have no desire to prolong this trip…..I do however have a request to make of you."

"Me?" She asked in surprise. He had never asked her for anything.

He nodded once again serious as he removed a letter from his coat pocket and held it out to her.

"I need you to give this to a friend of mine. Will you?"

Reaching out she took the letter and felt the rough wax seal with her index finger.

"Of course….. _please don't go_."

"I'll come back Princess, I'll always come back."

She looked at the note in her hands and read the name written on the front.

 _Alfred Pennyworth._

 _Four months ago_

"You understand what I am telling you?"

She received no visible response but knew her orders had been comprehended.

"Don't forget what you owe me." She reminded the servant.

"I will never forget."

"Good, and remember, _no one_ must ever find out that I have sent you or we are all doomed."

Once again no response, but this time it was because she was once again alone.

Nura hung her head and prayed that at last she would be freed from her sins.

 _Rest in peace now and haunt me no more…she will be safe._


	9. Chapter 8: Delivering the Message

**Side Note: A cupid's bow is the indent beneath your nose and above your lips.**

 **Sorry it took so long to update, It seems all I do is apologize for being slow, but summer is coming and I should have more time to write!**

 **Please Review!**

 **Chapter 8: Delivering the Message**

 _Road, Kent County England, October 8, 1843_

The Carriage jolted and bumped over the rough country roads as they made their way to Riverfoot Hall.

Throughout the journey Diana had remained glued to the window. Watching in fascination at the passing countryside. It was so green! It was completely unlike anything she had ever seen or could have imagined. A welcome change from the bland grey of London.

Clark smiled at her and returned to reading his newspaper, uninclined to interrupt.

Lois had not accompanied them. A decision that had initially hurt Diana's feelings, thinking that Lois's desire to stay behind had something to do with her. Clark however was quick to dispel these fears and gave her some insight to his wife's decision.

"The Lanes are neighbors of Ma's, any visit to her would have demanded a curtesy visit to them. And that is something Lois like's to ration."

"Why, does she not like her family?"

"It isn't that she dislikes them. Her father, Colonel Samuel Lane is a good man, a hard man. He and Lois are very much alike and he has always considered her his favorite child. But he isn't terribly affectionate so he would be the last one to be offended by his daughter's leave of absence."

"Favorite child? Does Lois have siblings?"

"A sister, Lucy."

"Do they not get along?"

"There relationship is a bit more complicated. Of course Lois loves her sister, but firstly there is a nine year age gap between them, Lucy is only 12. And besides that they are very different; in fact I'll wager you never met two sisters who were less alike."

Diana thought of Shani, Nadira, Sultana, and Shayera and knew he would've lost that bet.

Clark let out a sigh and his look became pained.

"Truthfully Lucy is a sweet girl who could benefit greatly from a closer relationship with her sister. And I know that Lois wishes they were closer but Lucy does so grate on her nerves; and she is hopelessly restrained under their mother's thumb."

"So it is Lois's mother who is the broken chain."

"I think you mean severed link, but yes."

"Severed?"

"It means broken."

"Then why can I not say broken?"

"Well-it just isn't how the saying goes."

"But if they mean the same thing then why can they not be used the same?"

"It's complicated."

Diana let out a frustrated sigh and slumped back against the upholstery.

"Everything English is complicated."

Clark did his best to hide a bemused smirk.

"I suppose it is."

They continued the rest of the ride in comfortable silence as Diana was once again distracted by the passing scenery.

After several hours of riding through idyllic pastures and farmland the gracious sight of Riverfoot Hall came into view.

It was an elegant and unassuming country house in the Georgian style; with a simple unadorned façade of even cut grey and white stone that rose a mere three stories high. The windows were evenly spaced with white trim and the front door was beneath a small overhang supported by four stone columns.

Several chimneys dotted its slate roof and vines of Ivy and late blooming flowers climbed its walls.

The house set in a little clearing and was surrounded on all sides by forests and parkland; whose various winding paths led the way to the village and tenant farms.

By a poor man's standard it was grand, for a rich man's fancy it was pleasant, for a girl who had spent her whole life in an endless oriental palace it was cozy.

The carriage rolled more smoothly now over the pebbled driveway. As they neared Diana spied a small figure race out of the front door and caught sight of a blonde head bobbing up and down with excitement and arms waving in the air.

"They are hear! Ma! They're here!" the child yelled as the carriage came to a stop in front of the door.

Clark exited first and as soon as his feet hit the ground the little girl flew at him. Laughing Clark swung her up in his arms and tossed her into the air as if she weighed nothing.

Giggling the girl wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce and trusting hug that only a child can give.

Setting her back on the ground Clark turned back to the carriage and held out a hand to help Diana down.

She accepted and once on solid ground felt the crunch of gravel beneath her slippers.

Smiling with simple joy Clark put his hands on the little girl's shoulders and introduced her to Diana.

"Diana this is my little sister, Lady Caroline Kent."

"Kara." The little girl corrected as she stuck out a hand for Diana to shake.

Diana accepted and the little girl proudly shook her hand as an equal.

"You're tall." Kara observed and Diana smiled at her refreshing bluntness.

"So I have been told."

"I am not tall, but I am only 9. Maybe when I am 10 I will be taller."

Diana's smile grew and she happily fed Kara's dreams.

"Oh I am sure you will be, after all look at how tall your brother is."

Kara looked at Clark most seriously and nodded her head at him in approval.

"Yes, he is tall. But Ma says that is an accident."

"Why would she say that?"

"Because Ma is not tall, neither was Pa, so Clark is just weird."

Diana snorted as she struggled to contain her laughter at Kara's most serious deduction.

Clark good-naturedly ruffled his sister's hair with his large hand and she beat him back with small but powerful fists.

"Come now Kara, we mustn't keep Ma waiting."

Kara quickly took Diana by the hand and pulled her at running speed into the house; the whole time keeping up a steady flow of conversation about Riverfoot Hall, Clark, Diana, Herself, and anything that caught her fancy on the way.

Bursting through the parlor doors at breakneck speed Kara slid to a stop, practically throwing Diana to the floor in the process. She was surprisingly strong for such a little girl.

"They're here!" she announced proudly as Diana tried to regain her composure.

The room was painted a cheery yellow with white trim. A freshly polished pianoforte sat against a wall beneath a bank of family portraits and the rest of the mahogany and yellow upholstered furniture was angled toward it as if waiting for a performance. Two large windows across from the fireplace let light pour in; and sitting in a straight-backed chair under the window sat a woman dressed in black, working at an embroidery stand.

She raised her head at the sound of their entrance and her face glowed with the love and admiration that only a mother can give. Diana suddenly felt herself longing for the woman to take her in her arms and smooth all her cares away with gentle words.

"Diana, may I introduce my mother and your aunt, Martha Kent." Clark smiled at his mother who held out her arms to him. He crossed the floor to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Kara ran over to her mother and pushed herself in front of her brother for a pat on the head and kiss of her own. Martha laughed at her daughter's shenanigans and the room filled with the sweet melody of her voice.

Diana watched the picturesque family scene with longing.

Martha finally looked away from the joys of her heart and saw Diana standing on the other side of the room in her white traveling dress and bonnet.

Tears sprang into the older woman's eyes as she gracefully stood and crossed the room.

Diana dropped into a deep curtsey.

"I am very happy to meet you Aunt Martha."

She didn't even have a chance to straighten before the woman took her in her arms and hugged her fiercely like a mother protecting her young.

After releasing her Martha gently took Diana's face in her hands and studied her face as if she would memorize every detail.

Blinking through the tears that streamed down her cheeks she smiled.

"You look so much like your mother….. _Polly would be proud_."

Once again she embraced her and this time it was Diana who had to fight back tears.

Martha began to laugh softly as she let Diana go and wiped her tears away with her handkerchief.

"Oh I am sorry dear, I didn't mean to make you cry. I am just so glad you are here."

Diana smiled in return and took a moment to look her aunt over.

Kara was right, she was short.

She had a soft sweetness about her that her sister Mary lacked. She was a middle aged woman of 46 who had obviously been quite pretty in her younger days. Now she had a quiet elegance and dignity that had replaced the vivacity of her youth.

Martha had light blue eyes and white hair that was once a rich honey blonde but had changed prematurely. Her figure was fuller than Mary's stretched-out boney frame but she was by no means obese.

The sound of a masculine throat clearing made the group turn to the door. A fat and important looking servant addressed Aunt Martha with plenty of drawn-out syllables and gravitas.

"Forgive me Madame but Mrs. Lane and a Miss Lucy Lane have arrived."

"Oh!" Exclaimed Martha clearly surprised at the unexpected callers.

"Thank you Desmond, please see them in. Oh and Desmond, please make sure that Lady Diana's trunks are taken to her room and that Ellen knows to move the gilded mirror from the Greenroom to Lady Diana's"

The butler bowed, (not an easy task given his sizable girth.) and left to deploy the servants.

Martha quickly smoothed down her dress and brushed a few stray hairs back into place with her fingers.

Diana moved back to stand with Clark and Kara.

"Is Lois's mother and sister here?" She asked the pair.

Clark nodded in despair. "The Lane's rent a cottage not far from Riverfoot, they probably saw us drive by. Miss Charlotte isn't one to waste an opportunity."

"She's a gossip and an insufferable bore."

"Kara!" Aunt Martha admonished and Clark quickly covered his sister's mouth with his large hand.

However Kara gave his hand a good lick causing him to pull it back in disgust. Prompting Kara to stick her tongue out at him for trying to silence her.

Diana bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as the doors opened.

In walked an overly dressed and impatient woman who held her nose in the air as if she smelt something foul and wanted the world to know it.

She was followed by a slight girl who looked almost identical to Lois except for her eyes were blue instead of violet and instead of Lois's strong Romanesque nose hers was small, turning up slightly at the end.

The girl made eye contact with her shoes and stood behind her mother like a scared rabbit. Diana could already see why Lois and Lucy did not get on well. Lois could never have abided the company of anyone who was so spineless.

"Martha dear!" Mrs. Lane crooned as she embraced the more sophisticated woman.

With a sweet smile that was nothing but polite and gracious the Dowager Countess greeted her guests and accepted their curtsies with hospitality.

"Ella, what an unexpected surprise, and you have brought Lucy, it is a pleasure to see you again my dear."

"Likewise Lady Kent." Lucy murmured.

As if hearing her voice reminded her of her presence Mrs. Lane turned to her daughter.

"Don't slouch Lulu."

The young girl flushed at her mother's reprimand and visibly tried to straighten her already impeccable posture.

Diana, Clark, and Kara watched Lucy be cowed by her mother with varying types, but equal levels of concern.

Clark felt pity, Diana felt indignation, and Kara just wanted to give Mrs. Lane a good slap in the face….but as much as she favored the direct approach she wasn't about to invoke the disappointment of her own mother.

Mrs. Lane turned glinting eyes toward Diana and a brief look of jealous envy flickered across her face before being replaced by a serene smile.

"You must be Diana, aren't you beautiful, I am Mrs. Charlotte Lane."

" _Lady_ Diana." Diana corrected as she walked forward and toward above Mrs. Lane like a giantess.

Charlotte's smile became more forced at being reminded of her lower social status. Diana had known many women like Mrs. Lane, nothing mattered more to her than her own social standing. She had risen as far as she could in life and now her only opportunities were through the advancement of her daughters. So far she had done well with Lois, but no matter how successful her children it would never lessen the sting of the fact that her daughter was a Countess but she would always be just Mrs. Samuel Lane.

Thankfully though, behavior was everything to her, and no matter what, she would always be, at least on the surface, the perfect Victorian woman. Besides, connections were the next best thing to rank. And the long lost Lady Diana Princeton was a profitable acquaintance indeed.

"This is my youngest daughter, Lucy." Charlotte motioned the girl forward and she gave Diana a curtsy.

Just as quickly as she had acknowledged her Mrs. Lane ignored her daughter once more. Moving on to more interesting subjects.

"I believe you know my eldest, the current Countess of Lonworth, darling Clark's wife."

Clark shifted uncomfortably at being made to feel like a prize Miss Charlotte had won by his marrying her daughter.

Sensing the tension Martha intervened.

"Clark I do hate to do this to you seeing as how we have guests but Mr. Dent left some papers and I just can't make heads or tails of them. Would you look handle it for me?"

"Of course Ma." Clark assured her looking noticeably relieved.

"Thank you, they are in your father's…they're in the study."

Clark nodded respectfully to his mother-in-law and sister-in-law, and then left to do his own mother's bidding.

Turning her attention to the girls Aunt Martha gave them the gift of release as well.

"Kara, be a dear and show your cousin the stable. I am sure she would love to meet Allura. And Lucy why don't you go too, no need for you three to be hanging around while the adults talk."

Kara didn't need to be asked twice and instantly took Diana by the hand and broke for the door; Lucy following docilely behind.

Once outside the little girl gave an exaggerated sigh of relief and began marching down the hill from the house towards the stable; expecting her charges to follow her. Lucy and Diana exchanged confused looks before following Kara down the hill.

"Lucy, why did Aunt Martha call your mother Ella? She said her name was Charlotte."

Lucy kept her eyes on the ground careful not to trip on the incline that Kara had rundown at breakneck speed.

"Mother's middle name is Elinore, she likes it better than Charlotte so all of her friends call her Ella. But mother thinks it is disrespectful of children to refer to their elders by such a familiar name so everyone else calls her Miss Charlotte, or Mrs. Lane."

Diana nodded at the explanation and tried to think of something else to talk about that might bring Lucy out of her shell.

When she couldn't think of anything she turned the conversation to Kara, hoping Lucy might join in on her own efforts.

"So who is Allura?"

Kara turned around, now walking backwards, proudly showing off her superior agility.

"My horse! Ma finally let me have one of my very own. I had three ponies but they didn't go fast enough."

She turned back around and slowed down giving Diana and Lucy a chance to catch up.

When they reached the stable Kara ran inside leaving the older girls in the dust.

"Kara don't run, it isn't lady-like." Lucy admonished but was effectively ignored, whilst Diana silently rejoiced at the fact that Lucy had just demonstrated independent thought and speech without any prompting…unless you counted Kara's lack of propriety…which she didn't.

Yes there might be hope for Miss Lucy Lane yet.

As she followed Lucy and Kara to Allura's stall she thought how nice it would be to have a friend nearer her own age…and from the looks of Lucy, she could use a friend too.

 _Later that evening_

The Lanes had _finally_ left. Though not before Mrs. Lane had repeatedly talked about how the one mile walk from the cottage to Riverfoot Hall had been unbelievably tiring and had surely taxed her health.

The hint had been taken and Clark had ordered the carriage, personally escorting his mother-in-law to the safety of her own home.

The departure of their guests gave Aunt Martha the opportunity to give Diana a tour of the house.

The tour ended with Diana's bedroom which Aunt Martha had taken special care in decorating.

Upon opening the doors Diana fell in love with the cozy atmosphere. It was larger than her room at Lois and Clark's but strangely felt more intimate.

It was painted a soft sky blue with a four poster bed and a marble fireplace. The bed curtains and drapes were midnight blue and embroidered with green and gold thread depicting vines of golden roses and snowdrops.

The room was filled with the normal furnishings of a bed chamber, including a mahogany chaise at the foot of the bed and a simple oak writing desk at one of the large windows.

Diana spied her trunks stacked neatly against the wall and wondered how she would ever fit all of her clothes in the armoire.

She turned to tell her Aunt how much she loved her room, but froze before the words even escaped her throat.

She nearly tripped running back across the room to the portrait on the wall.

It was of a couple. A man with raven black hair looked unsmiling from the frame, next to him stood a woman with yellow hair, high cheekbones, a straight Grecian nose, and magnificent azure eyes….her eyes…she looked out of her painted prison with indifference and a bit of…sadness.

"I thought you might like to have that. I had a bit of difficulty finding where it had been stored, but Mary does have such an odd elephant like memory that it proved less puzzling to her."

Diana reached out and touched the canvas.

" _Is she…are they…"_

"Your parents." Martha confirmed.

Diana took a shaky breath.

"I remember her…at least I think I do…I remember her hair…"

A pounding knock on the door made both women jump.

"Sorry." Said a deep and strong female voice.

"That's alright you just startled us. Diana, this is Barda, she will be your personal maid."

 _Barda? More like Big Barda!_

Diana stared dumbfounded at her new maid. The woman was a giant! A true giant! She was taller than any woman, or man Diana had ever seen. She must have been 6 foot 4 at the very least. Her arms were muscular and she moved with the graceful stealth of a lioness. Her long black hair hung in a high ponytail and her dark brown eyes assessed everything about her in a calculating fashion. Her skin was tan, and she carried herself more like a soldier than a servant.

Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, but Diana just couldn't put her finger on it.

"My Lady." Barda gave a gesture that resembled more of a bow than a curtsy before ignoring the pair completely and crossing the room with large pounding strides to unpack the trunks.

Diana detected a slight accent to the maid's words that rang in her mind, but once again she could not place it.

But there was not time to wonder about that now, it was time for dinner.

 _October 9, 1843_

"Diana, where are we going?"

"Exploring."

"For what?" asked Kara excitedly.

"I don't know, what kinds of dragons do you have in England?"

"Dragons don't exist." Replied Kara annoyed at her cousin's obvious lack of common sense.

"Oh but they must!" Said Diana as she continued down the forest path.

"Why?" asked Kara who was skeptical but non-the-less curious.

"Because while I was at Clark's Beth told me about an English knight named George, who killed a dragon! And apparently everyone was so grateful that they made him a saint! _Whatever that is_."

"But that was a thousand years ago! Dragons don't exist anymore."

"Of course they do, they're just much smaller now."

"How much smaller?"

Diana stopped, turned around theatrically and bent down so she could look the nine year old in the eye.

"Have you ever seen a little creature that is covered in tiny scales, with a long tongue, who can run up walls very fast, and is occasionally green or blue?"

"You mean lizards?" asked Kara visibly disappointed.

Diana shook her head.

"No, baby dragons."

Kara perked up again at the idea of the fantastical living right under her nose.

"Are there dragons in Dagra?"

Diana shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

"Hundreds."

The rest of the morning was spent on a thrilling dragon hunt, which alas proved unfruitful, but was a heck of a lot of fun.

After luncheon, Kara had lessons with her governess, Miss Spencer. Aunt Martha planned for Diana to also have lessons but not until she was suitably settled into her new home.

So she spent the latter half of her afternoon with her Aunt in the parlor, watching while she embroidered and attempted to teach the skill to Diana.

The older woman smiled as for the 73rd time Diana stuck herself with the needle and growled in frustration.

"Your mother never liked needle work. I never understood why, she was wonderful at it. But, Polly always preferred to be outdoors rather than cooped up in a sitting room."

Martha took the hoop away from her niece and began to unknot the thread that had become hopelessly maimed.

"What was she like?"

Martha's eyes misted over and took on a faraway look.

"She was my sister, and as far as I was concerned the most wonderful person in the world. Mary was only three when her father died, mother remarried barely a year later, the county was scandalized. One year later Hippolyta arrived, and four years later me. From the moment I was born I was her subordinate, at least that's what _she_ told me…but Polly was also my protector."

"Were you close?"

Martha chuckled.

"She was a perfectionist and a control-freak. If she was going to do anything you could be sure she was going to be the best at it. But yes, despite our differences, we were very close. Besides, it wasn't me that her competitive spirit ran afoul of, it was Mary."

"Why?"

"As I am sure you have noticed Mary can be something of a non-conformist, and a recluse. My sister has always preferred books to people. Finding the latter more rational and interesting. That made her something of a know-it-all and neither she nor Hippolyta could stand being told they were wrong. They would argue for days, mother used to threaten to lock them outside, she would say that if they were going to squeal like hogs, then they could live like hogs, she did it once too I'll have you know. We opened the door the next morning to find them both dripping wet and shivering, but still arguing as passionately as ever."

Diana smiled at the mental image and Martha continued.

"Things got better between them after Mary's marriage to Benjamin. Such an odd man, to this day I believe that if those two hadn't found each other than no one would ever have come along, for either of them."

"What is wrong with Uncle Benjamin?"

"Well let's just say that as much as Mary loves books, Benjamin loves animals even more. Especially birds. Did you know that when Dinah was born he wanted to name her canary?"

Martha and Diana both laughed aloud at that.

"Of course Mary named her after a character in one of her books instead…or was it the Bible? I can't remember which. Anyway, so not wanting a fight Benjamin decided that Mary could call her Dinah and he would call her canary. Mary went along with it, assuming that the name would drop off once she got older. And really who can say no to that little man, it would be like kicking a puppy. The nickname only stuck more of course once everyone discovered her remarkable singing voice, so I believe Mary did in the end lose that battle."

"So they are happy together?"

"Surprisingly yes. I think that was what made things better between Hippolyta and Mary…and eventually drove them even further apart."

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder. With Mary out of the house Hippolyta had no one to battle with, and after a few months she began to miss the sister she used to fight with. Their relationship improved tremendously and both began to grow up. Well, Polly did at least. She was still a perfectionist but she seemed to blossom. She became much more regal, more refined. She had always been self-assured and serious, this made her attractive to the gentlemen of our acquaintance. Used to make me so jealous, I thought no one would ever notice me as long as she was around. To make matters even worse Hippolyta seemed completely bored with the idea of being courted. None of the men of our acquaintance interested her, they all fell over themselves trying to win her affections, but the harder they tried, the more removed from their grasp she became. Until Zachary"

"My Father?"

"Yes, he was different from the rest. Zachary wasn't a love-sick boy, he was a man. Roguish and exciting, with an insatiable thirst for adventure, and a reckless abandon that fascinated her. And Hippolyta was equally as infatuating to him, with her proud demeanor and sophisticated manner. Of course our mother did not approve. The great Diana Lennox thought him boorish and unrefined, despite his being a duke. Mother used to say that a titled person without the decency of good breeding was no better than a mule pulling a carriage. So when Polly informed her that after a short acquaintance of merely three months that they intended to marry mother was horrified."

"Did they run off together?" asked Diana, her mind filling with romantic tales of forbidden love.

Martha laughed gently at her niece's romantic ideals.

"No, mother relented, well she could hardly have stopped them. When Hippolyta wanted something she would pursue it with a single-mindedness that tended to win out in the end. And besides, by that time I had already left home to marry Jonathan, and Mary was quite settled in her life. I believe Polly saw her youth ebbing away and watched the contentment of her sisters and longed for a change for herself."

"Were they happy together?"

Martha looked at the young girl and Diana thought she saw a look of regret pass over her features.

"No, they were not. For all her beauty and intelligence, and his recklessness and excitement, they were not happy."

"Oh." Said Diana.

Martha felt guilty for having told her the truth. Thinking that perhaps the girl blamed herself, or would have her view of her unknown parents tarnished by the knowledge of their lack of mutual affection.

But this was not the case in Diana's mind. She felt no sorrow or guilt, for what rational could have justified such feelings for people she had never known. She had seen unhappy marriages and the knowledge of one more hardly held any real sway in her thinking. No, this new knowledge of her parents only made her thoughtful as to their characters.

"You said that something drove my mother and Aunt Mary apart once more?"

"As her own marriage began to fall apart Polly came to resent Mary's and my happiness. She became closed off and bitter. I was here in the country at the time, but poor Mary was in London, and had to bear the brunt of Hippolyta's misfortunes. Things got so bad between them that they quit speaking all together. Benjamin would bring Dinah to visit in an attempt to brighten Hippolyta's moods, but Mary never spoke to her again…When she died….I have never seen my sister so distraught….Never harbor bitterness Diana, it can do no good, all it brings is misery, and at some point it will be too late to reconcile."

Aunt Martha had ceased her work on the embroidery hoop and instead looked out the window with tears in her eyes. Diana, who knew the pain of losing a beloved sister reached out and took her aunt's hands in hers.

Martha looked back at her niece and smiled affectionately.

"Was my father a very hard man to love?"

Diana thought of Garsiv's domination of Nura, and the almost slave-like authority he held over the harem and wondered if her own father had been a cruel tyrant over her mother.

"Oh no dear, your father was a good man. He had his faults, as we all do, but he was not cruel or uncaring. I believe the main issue on his part was that, try as he might he just didn't understand her, didn't know her. And Polly, she never had anything of her own, nothing to give her life purpose."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I had my family, Jonathan and my children. Mary, had her books, numbers, phonetics, and philosophies. But Hippolyta never had anything like that….until you."

"Me?"

"I don't know who was more surprised at the news that your mother was expecting, us, or your parents. To be completely honest with you she was uncertain about the whole thing. Hippolyta had never imagined herself as a mother. But from the moment you were born you were the light of her life, and your father's as well. You've never seen a man so taken with a child as he was with you. Before you could even hold your head up Zachary had bought you a pony, and Hippolyta spent every waking moment with you in her arms. She completely dismissed the idea of having a nanny, not wishing to share you with anyone else."

Martha smiled warmly at the memories and Diana listened in fascination.

"And then, were they happy?"

"Perhaps not with each other, but very much with you."

Just then the door burst open and in flew Kara, released at last from her lessons.

"DIANA! Can we go look for Dragons again? We haven't checked the church yard yet!"

 _11:25pm that evening._

Crossing the polished wood floor Diana held her candle aloft as she felt her way in the dark to her desk. Her white nightgown billowed across the boards and she wrapped the soft crème colored shawl around her shoulders.

Taking her seat she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a stiff piece of crisp paper. Carefully, so as not to spill, she opened the inkwell and checked the point on her pen. Moving the candle closer so as to cast more light she began her letter.

 _Dear Bruce,_

 _I have finally met Aunt Martha! She is wonderful! You were right, I like Riverfoot Hall very much, though it is a bit small, but Clark said it was simply cozy, I pretended to agree with him at the time because I didn't want to admit that I did not know what cozy meant. I have since looked it up and find that I do agree, Riverfoot is quite cozy. Kara is proving interesting and very informative, already she has taught me the proper technique for dunking biscuits in milk and the use of something called a skipping rope. I also have had the misfortune of meeting Mrs. Charlotte Lane, a miserable and untrustworthy person in my opinion and I would challenge you to disagree. She is insufferable and never tires of poking her nose in other people's business. One of the maids, Vanessa, told me that she actually forced her daughters to walk for hours in the rain to keep their complexions white! I think that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of! I asked Vanessa why having white skin was so important but she wouldn't answer me and instead crinkled her face up all funny like she had sucked on a lemon and told me to run along and not ask such silly questions. Of course I found her answer unsatisfactory and went looking for someone with a bit more intelligence than Vanessa, but they all acted like I should have known the answer already. Really it is astounding how simple these English folk can be, of course I did not know the answer, otherwise I would not have asked the question. Anyways the housekeeper, Ellen, finally gave me an answer. She said that pale skin was the mark of a lady, I told her that there were two more obvious tellers and she got very pink in the face. Don't you think that is odd? To judge a woman as a lady because she sunburns more easily? I don't believe I shall ever understand how the English think…I am happy here Bruce, or at least I am happier, but I wish you were here too. It is very lonely sometimes, Kara is charming but she is very young, Aunt Martha is loving and kind, but it is not the same. I don't feel I can tell her, or any of them really, the truth of my feelings because I know they all so desperately want me to be happy here, with them, I can't stand the thought of upsetting them with the truth. I want to be happy here, to truly be Lady Diana Princeton, proper and fine English lady with completely pointless white skin that will make Mrs. Lane squirm with envy. Though my gaining the latter is not very likely since I have no desire to be shut away from what little sun there is to be had in this wet country. But the truth is that when I close my eyes at night, my dreams betray my true feelings that I try so hard to keep secret. In my dreams I am back, back home, I can see the desert, feel the salty breeze, hear the sound of cool precious water flowing in the palace fountains, I see my sister's face, I can feel my mother's love, and it hurts. It hurts so bad I can't breathe, I wake up every night with a pain in my chest and tears I don't remember shedding on my face. I miss them, I want to go back, but at the same time going back would equally break my heart. For then I would have to say goodbye to Aunt Martha, and Kara, Clark, Lois, everyone. No, I suppose going back would not solve my problems. I think I am learning to accept the inevitable. But still, it would be so much easier if you were here. I imagine it must be so exciting sailing around the world on your ship! You must think I am being ungrateful and complaining, so just to prove you wrong I have some happy news. I have decided to make a friend! Along with the burdensome acquaintances of Mrs. Lane, I have also met her daughter, Lucy. To be perfectly honest I understand why Lois cannot abide her. She is a mealy-mouthed little thing who seems incapable of making eye contact with anything besides her shoes and is being held captive underneath her mother's oppressive thumb. But I believe there is hope for her. I must go now, I can hear Barda coming to make sure I'm asleep. I'll write again soon._

 _Love,_

 _The Proper and very English Lady Diana Princeton._

 _The Next Morning, October 10, 1843_

Diana was the first down for breakfast the next morning. She had something to discuss with her Aunt.

She found Martha sitting quietly at the breakfast table sipping a cup of hot tea. She smiled at Diana and motioned for her to join her.

Diana complied, sitting opposite her Aunt as the latter poured some of the darkish liquid into a delicate little bone chine tea cup that had small purple flowers edged in gold painted on its surface; and was hardly large enough to quench someone's thirst but Diana supposed it was more for appearances than actual convenience.

Thanking Martha she accepted the cup and took a sip.

"Aunt Martha, there is something I wanted to ask you for."

"What's that Diana?"

"When Bruce left, he gave me this."

Diana produced the note Bruce had given her from the folds of her skirt and handed it across the table to her Aunt.

Martha took the letter and read the name on its surface.

"Alfred Pennyworth!"

"Do you know him?"

"Yes, quite well, he is a dear old man."

"Wonderful! Bruce asked me to give that to him, but I have no idea where he is."

"Why he lives at Wayne Castle." Replayed Aunt Martha as she returned the letter.

"Would it be possible to send him this letter?"

"Why don't you deliver it yourself."

"May I?"

"Of course, Gotham is only an hour by carriage. I think the old gentleman would be delighted with the company."

"Thank you Aunt Martha!" Diana squealed while Martha smiled indulgently.

"I'll order the carriage for this afternoon."

 _That Afternoon, Road from Riverfoot Hall to Wayne Castle._

Diana watched the passing scenery as they made their way through the forest on the road to Gotham. According to their driver, Baxter, they wouldn't actually be going to Gotham itself, as Wayne Castle was situated just outside it on an expansive estate.

Diana tried to imagine what Bruce's home looked like, but for once her imagination failed her. She just couldn't picture anyplace that Bruce would call home, the ship seemed like such a natural environment for him that she hadn't given much thought to his existence outside of it.

Just then the carriage rocked as they went over a particularly deep pothole.

"Careful!" barked Barda as she gripped the edge of the seat, shooting deadly looks into the driver's back.

Diana looked back at her maid.

Barda sat stiff as a board, as if she was waiting for an attack.

Deciding to attempt conversation she asked. "Did you grow up around here Barda?"

The maid didn't answer her, she didn't even acknowledge the question but continued to look around the forested road like a solider waiting for a fight.

Diana sighed and turned back to her observations.

 _Why did she have to come anyway? And if someone had to accompany me why did it have to be Big Barda!?_

The teenager was none too pleased with her unsociable escort. The palace harem may have been a walled in gilded world but at least she had been able to navigate it unabated.

Aunt Martha had explained to her the social rules of young ladies being chaperoned, especially when visiting someone for the first time; and even though she found such a rule detestably insulting she could at least have abided it if her companion could have been _anyone_ else. Ellen perhaps, or even Aunt Martha herself, but no just Barda, dull, unspeaking, critical looking Barda.

The rest of the ride was finished in silence, big surprise, and after about an hour of travel the trees lining the road began to thin and give way to a clearing.

As they emerged from the main road to the finely graveled path of the estate the first glimpse of Wayne Castle came into view.

Diana let out a surprised gasp and even Barda lost her sour look long enough to gaze at the sight in awe.

If England had been a shock then Wayne Castle was unfathomable.

A medieval fortress of dark stone rose higher and higher into the sky until it looked like it would meet the clouds.

Complete with turrets, towers, and even a drawbridge!

The castle stretched up and out in all directions, swallowing the green landscape as it went. Various styled windows marched along the proud old surface and along the largest tower she could just barely make out the narrow arrow slits that archers would have used to defend the castle centuries ago.

It looked like an old knight standing watch that had aged beyond even the nature that surrounded it.

Completely unfazed by the powerful visage Baxter drove the carriage over the drawbridge, which probably hadn't been raised for at least two centuries, and through the looming gate into the central courtyard.

As they passed under Diana looked up and saw the iron teeth of the gate starring down at her without forgiveness.

The carriage came to a stop and Baxter held out his hand to help the ladies down.

Barda didn't acknowledge the gesture but leapt forcefully from the carriage to the ground, causing the vehicle to lurch.

Baxter watched her go with an offended look on his proud face. Feeling bad for the poor man, and displeased with Barda's rudeness, she accepted his hand and exited much more gracefully.

"I shall be back for you in an hour Lady Diana." Said Baxter in his pleasant sounding drawl.

"Thank you Baxter."

He nodded and gave Barda one more disgruntled look before climbing back into the driver's seat and urged the horse back out of the castle.

For the hundredth time she felt to be sure the letter Bruce gave her was safe in the little cloth bag Ellen had given her. She had called it a handbag and it was very impressive with its deep purple color and embroidered birds, but it was so small that she didn't know how she was supposed to keep from losing it.

Removing the letter she pulled the strings on either side of the bag's opening to close it again and quickly tried to straighten any creases that had formed on the letter during its confinement in the cloth contraption.

Barda waited patiently for her to finish and then followed behind Diana up a small flight of stone steps to the main castle doors that were just as impressive as the house to which they belonged.

Diana lifted the brass circular knocker and let it fall back against the wood with an echoing bang.

Deciding one knock might not be enough to be heard inside the stone barricade she gave the knocker another three swings before she heard the faint sound of footsteps slapping stone on the other side.

The giant door creaked and groaned as it slowly moved back into the darkness behind it until a man appeared and stepped forward into the light.

He was around sixty years old and carried himself with a dignified air. He was thin, bordering on bony, but his back stood straight and strong without any indication of bending to age. His face was oval in shape with a thin but strong nose, his hair had once been black but was now peppered with gray, at least what remained of it, the top of his head was as bald and as shiny as an egg, gleaming in the sun like it was polished. His hair formed a carpeted ring around his skull except for his forehead which was also bare and creased with permanent worry lines. His blue eyes were small and sincere, squinting in the sunlight, causing more small wrinkles to betray his age at their edges. His strong chin and thin mouth was framed by a stiff and perfectly maintained no-nonsense mustache that sat in two black lines on either side of his cupid's bow and gave him an appearance of authority and propriety.

Upon opening the door and seeing Diana standing before him in her mint green dress and straw bonnet with matching green and crème ribbons his eyes widened and his sweet older face took the appearance of being in a dream.

"Lady Diana?" he asked with disbelief and a note of hope.

Now it was Diana's turn to be surprised. How did he know who she was?

"Yes? I am Lady Diana Princeton."

Something of what she said, or perhaps her rich accent, broke the spell and his face lost its dream like quality, but it was quickly replaced with keen interest.

"Are you really? I hadn't believed it when I heard you had returned, but I can see now I was wrong."

Diana smiled politely at the man, not sure if his comment was in need of a response. Remembering her reason for being there she held the letter up to her chest and gripped it tightly.

"Excuse us for intruding sir, but I am looking for a mister…"

Diana looked down at the name written on the note to be sure she didn't mispronounce it.

"…a mister, Alfred Pennyworth…Do you know if he is here or where I might find him please?"

The older gentleman bowed to her with respect and grace, rising with a kind smile on his face.

"I am Alfred Pennyworth, Butler to the Wayne Family, how may I be of service to you Lady Diana?"

Diana's face broke into a smile as she handed the letter to him and returned his bow with a curtsey, just as Bruce had taught her to.

"Oh I am so glad to meet you! Bruce gave me this letter to give to you."

Alfred took the letter as his face became etched with concern.

He opened the note and quickly scanned the one page, careful to keep it close to his person making it impossible for Diana to sneak a peek at the contents.

Whatever it was must have put the old man's mind at ease for his face quickly relaxed and turned back to hers with delight.

"Thank you, so much for bringing this to me daear Lady. Now, won't you and your companion please stay for tea?"

"Oh yes that sounds awfully nice."

With renewed energy and surprising spryness the butler threw open the ancient door, flooding the entryway with light as he bowed once again and motioned for the pair to follow him down the hall as he prattled happily about the joy of having guests in the house once again.

They followed him down a large stone gallery to another set of enormous doors of polished dark wood. He opened them and motioned the ladies inside.

Where the hall had been dark and depressing with various objects concealed beneath sheets the parlor was bright, and if not exactly cheerful it at least felt more welcoming and lived in.

"I will return momentarily." Alfred said before leaving the room and closing the door once again.

As soon as he had gone Barda picked up an ornate clock from the mantle and studied its various designs and golden inlay.

It was all Diana could do to keep from slapping the clock out of her hands as mortified embarrassment welled within her.

" _Barda! Put that down!_ " Diana hissed in a whisper incase the elderly butler was still near enough to hear.

The giantess gave her a look that suggested she didn't care what Diana said one way or another, but she did put the clock down and instead marched over to the window with her powerful gait.

Diana clutched her hands into fists as she bit her tongue.

She was outraged! Never in her life had she been so disregarded, and by a servant! Even Beth did as she was told. Diana had grown up surrounded by slaves and servants who hung on every word she said and would leap into action at her every whim. She had always taken this for granted and even though she knew they had little choice but to serve her she hadn't ever thought herself particularly demanding. But Barda! She didn't behave like a servant at all, more like a warden, or some kind of body guard. Oh why had Aunt Martha made her her maid!? Why not Vanessa, or Alice? Why did it have to be the Big Brute!

Thankfully the door opened again and Diana was distracted from her indignation.

Alfred entered smiling with a shiny silver tray, swiftly he put it down on a small table in front of a rich green settee.

"Now please my dear make yourself comfortable."

Diana obliged and sat down on the sofa, caressing its silk upholstery with her fingers.

Then Alfred turned his attentions to the other woman in his company.

"And you miss?"

"Barda." The giantess growled.

Unfazed by this tower of strength that stood a good six inches above him Alfred offered her a most respectful bow as if she were a queen and kissed her hand.

Diana could have sworn that for a moment Barda blushed, and for the first time she saw a small smile tease on her normally stoic face.

 _She's actually quite pretty when she's happy._

Just as quick as the smile appeared it vanished once more as she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.

Once again Alfred acted as if her behavior was perfectly normal, instead of the rude insult anyone else would have taken it for.

"Would you care for tea?" He asked motioning toward the settee where Diana waited.

Barda eyed the couch and looked back at the butler. Diana saw nothing significant about this exchange except that Barda was once again being unbearably rude, but Alfred seemed to read something more to it.

"Of course it is such a lovely day, and this window holds such a majestic view, perhaps you would prefer your tea here so you can enjoy it yourself?"

"Yes." Replied Barda and the man's eyes lit with happiness.

With efficiency he retrieved an arm chair that he placed for her at the base of the large window then quickly he returned to the tray and retrieved a cup of tea and small plate of sweets before promptly returning.

He presented Barda with the tiny porcelain cup which all but disappeared within her large hand and sat the tray of sweets in the window sill as she seated herself in the chair. Bowing once more he returned to his other guest at the settee, leaving Barda happily munching away on a biscuit.

"Now," he said as he took his seat beside Diana.

"Do you prefer crème or sugar?"

"Both please."

He served the tea and the two sipped quietly for a moment, not sure which direction their conversation would begin with.

She began.

Pointing to a gold and gem incrusted curved sword that hung over the mantle she asked perplexed.

"I didn't know the English had access to anything like that."

"Oh, do you like it? I believe it is Indian in design, but perhaps not. Master Bruce's father was something of a collector, I believe he brought that back with him from his last trip to the east. That must have been around 1826, just before—of course Master Bruce is something of an adventurer himself and has added his own selections to the collection."

Alfred took another sip of his tea.

"No, now that I think about it, it couldn't be from India….where is it from?"

"It's Persian." Diana informed him as she helped herself to another scone.

Alfred looked at her in surprise.

"Really? Remarkable, you know I have always wondered, do you perhaps know what it is called?"

"Yes, it is called a Shamshir."

"Amazing."

"Of course you weren't entirely wrong in supposing its origins were Indian, but they would have called it a Talwaar. The Egyptians have another name for it as well, Kilij, no wait that is the Ottomans, perhaps they both call it that, I suppose I can't remember."

"But then how do you know this one is Persian and not Indian or Turkish?"

"Because it says so."

Alfred looked back at the sword with curiosity but found no trace of words.

"Where?"

"Right there. Do you see that golden design?"

"Yes."

"That is Persian writing."

"Well good heavens! I had always supposed it to be merely decoration. How did you come across such fascinating information?"

Diana paused mid sip and said in a quiet little voice.

"My sister taught me."

Sensing that the conversation had taken a less light hearted tone Alfred waited to see if she would say anymore. She didn't, but the suddenly melancholy look that came over her face broke his sentimental old heart and he decided that a little coaxing was in order.

"Won't you tell me about her?" he asked in such a kind voice that tears sprang into her eyes and she turned to him and he saw that for all her grown up dresses and fine speech she was still just a scared little girl, not unlike another young woman he had once known.

"I want to talk to someone so very much, but I cannot talk about them at home….it is not that anyone told me not too, but they all want me to be happy here and think of this as home, and I am starting too, really! But, it is so hard to pretend like the past didn't exist, but I am afraid that if I talk about it to those around me they will think I am unhappy with them and then they will be hurt, and that is the last thing I would ever want to do!"

The older gentleman nodded his head understandingly.

"It can be very hard to protect all those you love. But suffering alone will cause you even more harm. Sometimes the best person to talk to is the one you know least….So, what is your sister's name?"

Despite the tears that still glistened in her eyes Diana's face spread into a beautiful smile.

"Shayera, Princess of Dagra. She loved to learn about swords!"

Alfred's eyes widened.

"A princess? I knew you had been raised in the east, but I had no idea it was a palace!"

Diana raised her head with pride.

"I was raised a princess in the palace of Sultana Garsiv of Dagra."

Alfred stood and bowed again with the utmost seriousness.

"You're Highness."

 _Kingdom of Dagra_

Shayera watched as her older brother Prince Kareem left his mother's rooms.

He didn't even acknowledge her even though she watched him go blatantly with her arms crossed and her hawk-like eyes boring into his back as he went.

He seemed to be trying to escape this realm of women as fast as possible, even pushing some poor young girl to the ground in his haste to flee.

 _What did that snake do?_

She didn't like most people, but she utterly loathed Kareem. He was a two faced jackal who delighted in cruelty and had a horrible reputation not only within the harem as an abusive master, but throughout the kingdom as a cold-blooded soldier with no regard for the rules of combat.

Just then a servant came running toward her, forgetting to bow in her haste.

"Princess Shayera! Please you must come quickly!"

Shayera didn't even hesitate but ran past the girl towards the rooms that Kareem had just fled.

Before she even entered she could hear the wailing and it made her skin crawl.

Running through the various chambers she finally found her.

The servants coward around the edge of the room, to terrified of their mistress's grief to venture near.

Nura had thrown herself on the floor and lay there wailing as she banged her fists against the stone floor until they were bruised and bled.

Shayera watched in horror as the woman pulled herself to her knees and began rocking back and forth as she cried to God, asking why he had cursed her! And begging for mercy as she simultaneously cursed the sons she had born and the husband she was shackled to.

As she continued to spew curses against the Sultan Shayera felt a cold fear work its way up her spine. No one, not even Nura would ever risk criticizing the Sultan in such a manner.

When Nura reached up and began pulling out clumps of her magnificent hair Shayera raced for her and flew to the ground.

Capturing the hysterical woman's wrists she held them before she could do anymore harm to herself.

Nura didn't even see her but continued to wail and thrash.

Shayera turned to the servants and slaves.

"GET OUT ALL OF YOU!"

They didn't need prompting and with a rush quickly fled the scene.

As Nura fought her Shayera struggled to maintain her grip so violent was the older woman's outcry.

"NURA! NURA! WHAT HAS HAPPENED? NURA STOP!"

Nura ceased thrashing and collapsed against Shayera who held her as she dissolved into hoarse chocking sobs.

Not knowing what to do Shayera wrapped her arms around her and continued to try and gain some answers.

"Nura, calm yourself, what is wrong? What has happened? Has Kareem done something?"

At the sound of her son's name Nura jerked back away from Shayera and spit on the stone cursing her son and his descendants.

Shayera watched in shock, Nura was known as a loving and kind mother, and even though her sons had given her little but grief it was unfathomable to think she would ever curse the day she bore them.

Nura looked at the young girl for only a moment before covering her eyes and beginning to rock back and forth once again.

" _Sold._ " She hissed through her tears.

"What?"

" _Sold!_ " Nura repeated.

"What are you talking about? What was sold?"

" _A throne bought with blood! A throne bought with blood! Sold!_ "

Nura continued to chant and Shayera began to fear she had lost her mind.

 _What is happening?_


	10. Chapter 9: The Debt is Paid

**Ok quick note, I couldn't get the formatting quite right so in the letter when something is underlined it is supposed to have a line through it like someone was crossing it out.**

 **Also so sorry I have been gone so long.**

 **I hope you enjoy and Please, Please, Please, Please, REVIEW!**

 **Thank you!**

 **Chapter 9: The Debt is Paid**

 _November 2, 1843_

 _Dear Bruce,_

 _I have at last finished unpacking! Well, I suppose I didn't do much of the work, but Barda and Vanessa certainly deserve an award for all their efforts. I rearranged my room a bit too, with Aunt Martha's consent of course, and now my desk sits directly in front of my window instead of beside it. Vanessa thought this was in bad taste and told me so, but I informed her that it was my room and she could decorate hers as she pleased, she didn't argue and I thought I caught Barda beginning to smile but it may have been a trick of the light. That brings me to my next endeavor, Barda. With all the excitement of moving in finally dying down, I confess I don't know exactly what to do with myself. So I have made a list of accomplishments I plan to encounter on. (I am not sure accomplishments is the correct word but it does sound very fancy, don't you think?) Anyways, I shall list them for you here._

 _1._ _Take a thorough look through late Uncle Jonathan's library for at least one volume of truly good poetry. (The English are so tame with their words that it is dreadfully boring.) However, I suspect a copy of truly tantalizing wordplay may well be just within reach!_

 _2._ _Claim Miss Lucy Lane as a friend and inspire her to have a voice of her own! I have enlisted Kara's help in this, though she believes it to be a lost cause._

 _3._ _Learn to embroider, (Aunt Martha's idea.)_

 _4._ _Walk to every tenant's farm on the estate if necessary in search of Thomasina. (Mrs. Lane's missing pug dog.)_

 _5._ _And finally, make Big Barda laugh!_

 _I know that putting Barda at the end of the list may make that task seem less important but the opposite is true. Hers is my first task but I left it last for impact. She seems completely devoid of humor or even the ability to look pleased, so I have made it my mission to make her laugh! If for no other reason than to see if her voice is capable of making any other noise besides the word no! She really is very infuriating, and I now understand even less why Aunt Martha made her my maid, for I overheard the cook talking to Desmond about her when Kara and I went to sneak some biscuits. Apparently, Barda's employment is just as much of a mystery to them as me. According to Cook, she arrived at Riverfoot Hall about a week before I did and practically demanded employment. She had nothing with her but a small bag that was hardly large enough to hold a petticoat let along a rational person's belongings. Then Desmond said that he didn't think Aunt Martha or the Countess, as he calls her, ever officially hired her because all he heard from listening through the keyhole was Barda give her name, no surname mind you just her given name, announce that she was the new maid and that she preferred to room alone. Apparently, those were also the last words either Desmond or the Cook has ever heard Barda say for she hasn't so much as acknowledged the other servants' existence since her arrival unless absolutely necessary._

 _At this point, Kara had grown tired of eavesdropping and left but I wanted to learn more so I stayed crouched behind a flour barrel so as not to be seen. Which was no easy task since I had to hold my skirts around my legs to keep them from billowing out and giving away my hiding place…Anyways back to Barda, Cook said she thinks that Barda isn't a woman at all because of her ox-like strength and the fact that she is undeniably a giant! I am ashamed to admit that I did watch her very closely over the next two days in an attempt to see if she perhaps had one of those large knobs at the throat that men have or perhaps very closely shaved facial her but alas she does not, and I also have to admit that I feel quite foolish for having assumed this idea plausible for in reality, Barda does not look mannish, it is just that she doesn't behave as the other maids do. Really Bruce she seems to have no idea how to be a personal maid at all and actually managed to pull a chunk of my hair out the other night when she was supposed to be braiding it (the only hair style she knows for hers is always in a loose ponytail) and my screams actually brought Aunt Martha running to my room, who then promptly decided that Vanessa will handle getting me ready in the mornings and Barda will handle cleaning up Kara's room in exchange for the assistance. At first, I thought this decision would offend Barda but she didn't seem to care either way and just went back to her work, of course, Aunt Martha said it so kindly that it is impossible to think anyone could ever be upset with anything she asks of them. She really is remarkable, I hope to make her proud of me and I have been trying to emulate her calm presence but alas I have been failing because being calm is frightfully dull! (Kara's words not mine.)_

 _Oh another piece of news, though hardly an interesting bit, is that I have begun lessons with Ms. Spencer. They are going fine, I suppose, but I have realized that Ms. Spencer does not see any error in herself or the manners of the English. Thus far I have kept silent as I do not know as much as she does in that regard but her know-it-all tone is getting tiresome and I hope I will have the strength to endure her presence. I have to go now for I can hear Ellen calling me. I'll write again soon._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Lady Diana Princeton_

Diana carefully slid the letter between two books to keep it flat and then left her room to answer her summons.

As she exited the room she was nearly run over by Kara who was attempting to flee down the hall. In her arms was what appeared to have once been a chicken, though from the looks of it now that assumption could be argued. The poor creature was covered in dark blue ink and was struggling with all its might against its captor. Kara, however, was not giving it any chance to escape and gripped the bird to her pinafore, which was also now stained blue with ink. With a hand holding it to her chest and another clamped down on the beast's beak to keep it from squawking she held her captive with an iron strength.

"DIANA! Quick let me in!"

Obediently she moved aside for the tiny blonde vigilante who flew into the room and kicked the door shut behind her, before a very out of breath and wheezy Desmond crested the stairs in pursuit.

"W-W-Which…..W-W-Way?" he panted as he wiped the downpour of sweat streaming down his puffy red face.

Diana pointed nonchalantly down the hall and Desmond took off, his fat body wheezing and sputtering as he went.

Once he rounded the corner Kara opened the door and poked her head out.

Glancing quickly to make sure he was gone she nodded her thanks to Diana and took off running down the staircase to the sweet freedom of the outdoors.

Diana watched her go, trying to decipher what was going on but was interrupted by the sound of her naming being called.

Deciding Kara and her escapades could wait she picked up her skirts and hurried down the stairs.

"Coming Aunt Martha!"

She found her sitting in the parlor reading over a letter.

Martha looked up when Diana entered and smiled.

Diana curtsied and Martha motioned for her to join her on the sofa,

Diana happily plopped down next to her beloved aunt and listened to the familiar sound of Martha's black taffeta mourning gown swish as the older woman made room for her niece.

"I have just received a letter from your cousins."

"Are Clark and Dinah coming to visit?"

"No dear, these are your father's cousins, Artemis and Alexandra Troy."

"Oh." Diana had forgotten she had other family members but was intensely curious about these two strange women that Bruce had referred to as men-haters.

Aunt Martha began to read the letter that Artemis had pinned in her normal militaristic fashion.

 _Martha,_

 _I assume by now that the girl has arrived._

"The girl! She couldn't be bothered to know my name?"

"Don't take it personally Diana, Artemis has always had trouble remembering what she considers non-vital information. But don't be fooled, she knows exactly who you are, and is very interested in your welfare."

Martha continued reading.

 _Since you refused our request for her to be raised alongside her Troy cousins._

Martha's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

"Artemis is also not one for letting things go."

 _I find myself in the position of demanding requesting that you allow her contact with them and I will await your reply for when the children can visit, __at your home of course as you have deemed ours unsuitable._

Martha smiled slightly in amusement as she showed Diana where another hand had scratched a line through Artemis's accusing words and written in small neat letters underneath.

 _If it would not be imposing, Donna and Cassandra are very eager to meet their cousin._

 _Signed,_

 _Artemis Troy_

"Alexa must have written that in, she has always been the more congenial of the two. Though this letter is a near perfect example of Artemis's temperament as well, short and to the point."

"What does she mean by unsuitable?" Diana asked.

Martha sighed heavily.

"When we were told that you had survived a meeting was called of your blood relations to discuss your coming to England and your life upon arrival. Since they are your father's first cousins Artemis and Alexandra were privy to the events, though they failed to attend the meeting in person."

"Why didn't they come?"

"The twins don't socialize much, in fact, I can't remember the last time they left their brother's house let alone Lancashire."

"Why do they live in their brother's house? Bruce said they didn't like men."

"Did he? Well, that is correct, however, they have little choice in the matter."

"Why not? If they do not care for their brother why must they live in his house? Can't they just leave?"

"The Troy's are a respectable family but one of modest means; as two spinsters they have no husbands to provide for them or independent funds to support themselves so they are dependent on their brother's generosity. An unfortunate reality but one that must be accepted."

Diana crinkled her nose. She wasn't sure how accepting she would be of being forced to live under the roof and protection of someone she despised. She failed to see the similarities between her cousins' situation and her existence in Dagra.

"Luckily for them, Zeus is hardly ever in residence, he prefers the solace and order of the Navy to his sisters' company."

"Is that why I did not go to live with them?"

"I admit the answer to that is selfishness on my part. Artemis and Alexandra offered, well more honestly demanded, that you live with them so you would be reared by your father's family. But I refused to hear it. I so wanted you to live here with us, with me. To be raised the way Hippolyta would have wished…To be honest I wanted to be sure you were always safe…to have a piece of my sister with me once more."

Tears glistened in Martha's eyes as she looked at Diana as if looking through a window to the past.

Taking her hand she brushed a stray curl away from the younger girl's face.

"You are so like her…forgive me dear child, I know you are not your mother, you are your own person. But I so wanted to know you, to love you as your own mother would if she were alive."

Martha enveloped her niece in a mother's loving embrace as a few resilient tears spilled down her cheeks.

Diana returned the embrace with a fierceness, wanting to protect this kind woman who loved her so; but Diana couldn't help but feel her heart sink as she thought of Martha's words.

 _To love you as your own mother would if she were alive._

 _She is alive Aunt Martha, will you ever acknowledge that she exists? Do you realize what you have stolen from her? Can I even speak her name without causing you more pain? No, what is done can't be changed, but I won't cause you more hurt, she lives in my memory…that is enough…It will have to be_

Aunt Martha pulled away and straightened, wiping the few stray tears from her cheeks, attempting to present herself as cool and collected, something Diana had come to realize was a very English trait.

"Goodness, it must be nearly two o'clock, you should be on your way. It would be most impolite to keep Mr. Pennyworth waiting."

Diana smiled in delight, she had forgotten that it was Wednesday.

"And while you're gone I will write Artemis and invite your cousins to come spend a nice long stay here with us for Christmas, would you like that?"

Diana nodded eagerly while she racked her brain trying to remember when and what Christmas was.

"Good, well then off you pop."

Diana stood and kissed her Aunt's cheek before running out of the room.

Martha smiled as she watched her go.

Ellen was already waiting for her at the door with her bonnet and cape.

When Ellen held out a pair of neat white gloves Diana's expression turned to one of disgust as she begrudgingly took them but mentally decided not to wear them. A decision that would have no doubt scandalized her aunt.

She hated wearing gloves. It was a constant battle of trying to keep them clean and remembering when to put them on and when to take them off. Besides they didn't even fit, not since she had managed to grow another two inches! Ugh! It was so infuriating!

Taking the hated accessory in hand she hurried out the front door to the waiting carriage only to have her spirits dampened by the unwelcome and unsmiling sight of Barda waiting with arms crossed at the carriage door.

Having already forgotten her decision to make amends with the giantess Diana struggled to conceal her irritation at finding her maid having once again invited herself when she wasn't wanted.

Diana forced a smile and tried to make her voice sound sweet and uninterested.

"Hello, Barda."

The maid didn't respond.

"You know you really don't have to come along, Aunt Martha said I didn't need a companion to visit Mr. Pennyworth and I am sure there are many other things you would rather do."

Apparently not since the giantess's only response was to open the carriage door and climb inside.

Diana dropped the act and let out a frustrated groan before getting in the carriage and taking her seat beside her silent watcher.

The carriage lurched into motion and Diana angrily crossed her arms and stared straight ahead.

 _Why does she always come along!_

The carriage rolled along the familiar road in sulky silence for a good twenty minutes before Diana decided to not let Barda's unwanted and seemingly constant presence ruin her day. She took great pleasure in their weekly visits to Mr. Pennyworth and would simply put Barda out of her mind.

About halfway down the road, the carriage stopped for a most curious site.

A man with thick rimmed glasses and a bushy mustache was standing on the edge of the road waving his arms to flag them down. Beside him stood a young girl of about twelve holding a large picnic basket.

She watched the man as he waved to the oncoming coach, her back turned to the barreling vehicle, but as they neared Diana saw a red braid the color of fire escape her wide-set bonnet and fall down her shoulders.

Diana's breath caught in her throat as for a moment, just one moment her eyes played tricks on her, and her mind screamed out a name.

 _Shayera?_

With joy surging in her breast she began to call out to her, to her sister.

Raising an arm out the window of the carriage she waved.

But before the name could escape her lips the girl turned, and Diana found herself staring into a pair of calm and intelligent pale blue eyes that held no resemblance to the fiery and restless green of her sister's.

In an instant, her surging joy was doused like a weak flame and she felt her face settle into a polite smile that was barely a shadow of its former exuberance.

 _Of course, it isn't her, that would be impossible…quite impossible._

The carriage lumbered to a stop and Baxter hopped down from the driver's seat.

"Commissioner! Is everything alright Sir?"

The Commissioner wiped the sweat from his forehead with a scrap of cloth that passed as a handkerchief.

"Baxter, thank you for stopping. Would you mind giving us a ride back to Gotham? It looks like rain and I am afraid we won't make it back before it breaks on foot."

Baxter looked hesitantly back towards the carriage.

"I'll have to ask the lady but if she agrees I can take you to where the road forks, I am driving the young miss up to the manor."

"Oh? Well, I would be grateful for the lift, I am sure we can make it back from there, after all it isn't but half a mile from the split."

Baxter nodded and headed towards the carriage.

Diana had been craning to hear but had only been able to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Milady, this is Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham police department, he was a friend of your late uncle's." offered Baxter trying to stress that this was a trustworthy person that needn't be feared. Little did he realize that seldom was fear one of Diana's foremost reactions. More often than not curiosity won the day.

"He asked if we could give them a ride so they can get home before the rain."

"Of course we will! Barda move over!"

Barda made a huffing noise that strongly alluded to her disapproval but dutifully slid over so that the seat across of Diana was free.

Soon everyone was seated comfortably in the carriage, (everyone except Barda, whose long legs were now un-mercilessly cramped in.)

As the cart lurched into motion the gentleman offered his sincerest thanks.

"Thank you, Lady Princeton."

"Diana, please."

The gentleman nodded and smiled.

"I am Commissioner James Gordon, and this is my daughter Barbara."

"How do you do." Smiled Barbara as she looked Diana square in the eye.

Diana smiled, oh she liked this girl!

"Gossip says that you spent 13 years in the Far East."

"Barbara! Don't be rude!"

"It's alright, yes I was."

"So do you speak Arabic?" asked Barbara with an eager gleam in her eye.

"Yes."

Barbara's smile grew and she clapped her hands in excitement.

"Teach me!"

The two girls struck up a conversation that made the time pass with impressive speed. By the time Baxter pulled the carriage to a halt the two had been giggling and chatting like long lost friends, and Barbara was capable of uttering two phrases, albeit poorly, in Arabic; "hello my name is" and "I would like to buy a camel and some cheese."

Barbara returned the favor and taught Diana a few words of French that she had picked up from a book she had read; Apple, _Pomme_ , Wig, _Perruque_ , and Actress, _Actrice_. Diana wasn't sure if that last one should count since they both sounded the same to her.

She liked Barbara, she was quick and witty, clever, with an impressive knowledge of almost every subject Diana had questioned her on. Most adults found Barbara's bookish and talkative nature bothersome, but Diana found her truly fascinating and never once took her for the know-it-all that most perceived her intelligence to have made her out to be.

When the carriage stopped Diana looked out the window to get a look at the city in the distance.

It was dark, with tall buildings climbing into the sky, taller than anything she had ever seen, taller even than the palace gates or the tower. From the city billowed a black cloud of soot and ash that seemed to engulf the landscape in a grayish haze.

Not an ounce of color could be seen in or beyond the city's ever expanding premise.

"It is horrible." Said Diana without thinking.

Barbara stuck her head out the window.

"Yes, it isn't very elegant. But, Gotham is the largest industrial city in the empire! It houses even more factories than London! And Dad says that at the rate the population is growing that it may soon be one of the wealthiest as well." Barbara said proudly.

"And one of the most crime-ridden." Mumbled the Commissioner.

Diana turned to ask him what he was talking about but he was already getting out of the carriage.

Once his boots sunk into the mud of the road he reached up and lifted Barbara down as if she was a feather.

"Thank you so much for the lift Lady Diana, please give my best to your Aunt." Said the Commissioner as he gave a little bow and began walking toward the monstrous city.

"Goodbye Diana!"

"Goodbye Barbara please come visit soon!"

"I will!"

The father-daughter duo walked side by side in pleasant companionship.

Diana watched them go with a slight longing.

 _Would my father have gone on picnics?_

She didn't wonder about it too long for the carriage had started again and they were once more on their way to see Mr. Pennyworth.

 _Wayne Manor_

They had just finished their tea in the green parlor, Alfred and Diana sitting comfortably on the settee and Barda in her straight-backed chair by the window. In her lap sat a delicate china plate that had once held a variety of sweets but was now empty.

Alfred and Diana had been chatting happily but Barda seemed to have taken no notice of them. Now she sat looking out the window, her express unreadable but slightly less harsh than normal, in fact, if someone were to take her at first appearances they may have believed her to possibly be enjoying herself, Diana did not see this.

"I have been doing some tidying up since your last visit and I believe I have found some articles of Master Wayne's collection you might find interesting, would you care to see?" Alfred asked.

Diana nodded excitedly and stood.

Alfred led the way to the door but before leaving he turned and bowed gracefully toward the seated figure across the room.

"Miss Barda."

Barda ignored them and continued to stare out the window, but Alfred seemed unfazed by this rudeness and resumed his role as tour guide.

He led Diana down one long expansive hall after another, prattling happily about this painting or that tapestry, occasionally peppering the conversation with tidbits about the castle itself or the Wayne family's long residence there.

"The Wayne's have resided here since the 9th century, though they were not the first lords of this castle, which was a mere shadow of its present self in those days. They served the first family who ruled here as trappers and traders, through various means they themselves were able to buy the place in the 12th century when the merchant class was on the rise, the Wayne's have always been good at making money. It wasn't until the reign of King Henry VIII that they gained their peerage when the first Bruce Wayne was created Duke of Connaught. Master Bruce was named for this ancestor."

Diana nodded but she was only half listening, the story did sound interesting but it was too heavily doused in history for Diana to really follow what he was talking about.

Alfred seemed to sense this and ceased, waiting instead for her to begin the next topic of conversation, which she had no trouble in doing.

"Why are you so considerate to Barda? She doesn't deserve it."

Alfred lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

"And why is that?"

"She has been nothing but rude and never takes part in the afternoon, she just sits and broods, and Aunt Martha even said she didn't have to come but here she is! Following me around and sulking like the giant ogress she is!"

Alfred listened intently to her complaints and took several minutes to think them over before responding.

"Very few are privileged enough to fashion their lives into what they want them to be. And even fewer think of how life is affecting others besides ourselves. Don't judge others too harshly by what you see Diana, and never forget, no matter how callous one may seem no one is immune to hurt."

Diana felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment and guilt over Alfred's word.

Alfred smiled once again and opened a door.

"I think you are really going to like this, Master Bruce brought it back all the way from Japan!"

 _November 14, 1843, The Knight's Revenge somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea._

Bruce carefully placed the lid on the inkwell and adjusted his desk chair.

 _A place for everything…._

Looking down he picked up the letter he had just finished reading.

Smiling once again at the artful flourishes and swoops of the signature he carefully folded it and placed it with the others once more; tying them together with the dark blue velvet ribbon that had kept them safe on their long journey to him.

 _And everything in its place…_

As a last thought, he placed the letters in a desk drawer and locked it. Placing the small gold key into his breast pocket.

Even though she was safe miles away in England he still felt uneasy having any sign of her out during the exchange.

Crossing the cabin to the mirror that hung on the wall he checked to make sure that his hair was slicked down correctly and the styling of his cravat.

It felt odd to be so formally dressed while onboard his ship but he was sure to be the most underdressed at this occasion.

A knock on the door rang in his ears and he squared his shoulders with determination.

"Come in."

"They've arrived Captain and are now boarding the deck."

"Thank you, Grayson."

The first mate nodded before turning toward the door.

"John."

His friend turned back.

"How many are there?"

"Enough…eight ships and a good baker's dozen coming over in the longboats, I just hope the added weight doesn't sink us."

Bruce's lips twitched into a smirk before returning to his normal stoicism.

"Thank you."

John nodded again and headed back up on deck followed by Bruce.

Once on deck Bruce was nearly blinded by the amount of jewelry glittering in the sun.

On one side of the ship stood his crew, lined up and looking warily at their _guests._

On the opposite side was the crown prince surrounded by his glittering companions all dressed in the finest silks but none compared to their leader who was literally dripping with jewels.

Prince Abdullah was 29 years old, dark and handsome with a confidence that can only come naturally to those who have never known a moment of disappointment.

He smiled almost laughingly at Bruce showing a line of straight pearl white teeth beneath his perfectly sculpted full beard and curling mustache.

Bruce bowed respectfully.

" _Your Highness._ "

The Prince visibly yawned as if this whole charade was beneath him.

With a flippant gesture, he motioned towards the line of chests that sat between the two sides.

One of his companions bowed and rushed forward, opening the chest and pulling up a fist full of gold coin letting each one fall back into the chest with an echoing _plunk_ before taking the last one and biting it in his teeth.

With a triumphant and slightly smug smile, he turned back towards his prince and said something in his native tongue.

Bruce had been studying Arabic religiously since his last encounter with the Sultan's court and was just able to detect the words trick and fair payment in the jumble of rapid speech.

 _He must have thought we would try and trick him as if the threats he made would not be enough._ Bruce thought bitterly.

Stepping forward Bruce addressed the group who so far had been content to ignore him and his crew.

"It is all here, the exact amount you asked for."

The Prince seemed surprised at being spoken to by this man whom he clearly thought little off.

For a moment Bruce could not gauge what the Prince's reaction would be, anger, annoyance, indifference.

Abdullah opted for amusement and flashed a friendly smile at him, the kind a snake might give a mouse before it devours it.

In slightly sluggish English he responded.

"As per my father's agreement with you, an honest and _fair_ transaction on both parts."

"I don't know if I would call selling your sister honest."

The Prince's companions stiffened at that as those who understood the westerner's words quickly conveyed them to the rest.

The Prince never even blinked but his smile grew as if he was about to burst out laughing.

But when he spoke it was with a calm almost hissing tone.

"My mother's _ward_ has served her purpose; as for my sister….her task awaits her."


	11. Chapter 10: A Merry Little Christmas

**Merry Christmas I am back from Hiatus**

 **Thank You for Reading and Please Review! :)**

 **Chapter 10: A Merry Little Christmas**

 _Riverfoot Hall, Kent England December 24, 1843_

"Run Kara!"

"Don't let him get away!"

"Faster"

"LEFT, LEFT!"

"EEEEEK"

"Get out of the way Lucy!"

"He's headed for the door!"

"DIVE DIANA!"

The pig formally known as Doyle, but who would now and forever be referred to as Sausage in Waiting, made a break for freedom down the staircase, slipping and falling in his mad dash, managing on his slide to wriggle free of the petticoat and vest that the girls had struggled for the past half hour to put him in.

Following Doyle down the stairs came a barrage of little soldiers in skirts.

Despite their valiant efforts Doyle made it to the landing first but was quickly followed by Kara who had slid down the banister. Then came Diana, Barbara, Donna, Cassie, and lastly Lucy who was practically in tears at the prospect of having to touch _that horrid pig_ again and possibly even more distraught at the thought of anyone thinking this whole affair had in any way been her idea.

"GOT HIM!" Kara yelled as with a skidding of shoes on wood she dove for the pig. Doyle, however, had grown wise to her tactics and scurried through the open doorway into the drawing room.

The rest of the troop hit the landing just as Doyle disappeared and all stood frozen in fear for a good ten seconds until the sound of a high pitched blood-curdling screech rang through the house, followed by a squeak of terror from Lucy who was now too petrified to cry.

With Kara leading the charge they advanced quickly into the pristine yellow room.

Mrs. Lane stood atop a dainty silk covered ottoman that swayed and groaned under the unwanted weight as she clawed at the air with one hand as if trying to climb higher away from the floor while her other hand raised her skirt so high in the air that it was an embarrassment.

Cowering on the floor, locked in Mrs. Lane's gaze, sprawled Doyle, who was just as terrified as she was but he had the added displeasure of having been boxed on the ear with her fan; which only added to the poor creature's distress as all he wanted was to escape from this nightmare and return to the safety of the barn where he would be far away from this frightening place.

"GET IT AWAY, GET IT AWAY! BEAST!" Mrs. Lane howled.

Taking advantage of Doyle's frozen state Kara and Donna fell on him grabbing him around the middle and wrestling him down with their combined weight.

"Hurray! You did it!" cheered Cassie who had found the whole experience nothing more than a delightful game.

Diana, Barbara, and even Lucy offered grateful applause.

The girls were too busy celebrating to notice that Mrs. Lane was still perched on the ottoman.

" _Ahem_ ,"

The little troop stopped cheering and looked to see Aunt Martha watching them with a disapproving look.

"Caroline?"

"He's for the Opera! He's the star!" exclaimed Kara who momentarily took her hand off Doyle's back, the pig began to squirm again and Kara quickly went back to holding him down with Donna's help.

At hearing that the pig was an actor Oliver, who had been watching the scene amusedly from his chair by the fire, burst into thunderous laughter and threw himself back with so much force his chair tottered.

Ignoring Oliver's outburst Aunt Martha held out a hand to help Mrs. Lane down from her perch, but she refused to budge.

"Girls, take the pig back to the barn." Commanded Aunt Martha as she tried to soothe Mrs. Lane who had begun to whimper.

Immediately a chorus of protest rose up from the group as they begged to be allowed to keep Doyle inside and how the whole production, which was scheduled for that evening after dinner, would be ruined without their main player.

Oliver's laughter intensified and tears began to roll down his face into his sandy blond beard. Mrs. Lane also began to cry, but for quite a different reason, and Doyle, who had finally shaken off his shocked stupor let out a loud _SNORT_ that echoed across the room and vibrated in everyone's ears.

The snort was the final straw.

The girls watched in horror as Mrs. Lane's skin blanched a deathly pale, her eyes rolled back, and her body began to crumble towards the ground.

Swift as an arrow Oliver was on his feet and managed to catch the fainted woman before she hit the ground. As he laid her on the settee Aunt Martha began slapping her wrists to try and revive her.

Turning for a moment she spied the now frozen group, still with Doyle in tow, watching with wide frightened eyes.

"Out!" said Aunt Martha, and the five of them leapt towards the exit with Cassie, Donna, and Kara pulling and pushing the squealing Doyle through the parlor doors, except for Lucy who stood rooted to the floor petrified as she watched Mrs. Kent try to revive her mother and Oliver fan her with a handkerchief.

Diana looked back and saw Lucy still standing motionless.

In two quick strides, she rushed back, took Lucy by the arm, and commanded, "Come on!" and pulled her out the door, kicking it closed behind her just as Oliver hollered for his wife's assistance.

Once safely in the foyer, they were met by the always stern eyes and crossed arms of Big Barda who eyed the pig with non-interest.

Doyle gave out a squeak as if to ask the giantess to save him from these ruffians in petticoats.

With one motion Barda bent down and hoisted Doyle up under one arm, then she opened the front door and marched out into the cold snowy terrain without so much as a shawl and walked towards the direction of the barn.

Donna closed the front door behind Barda while the rest looked on impressed by the maid's feet of strength.

Next came the rapid _tip taping_ of heeled shoes on the polished wood floor as Dinah scurried down the hall towards the parlor door, her wide skirt making a soft _swooshing_ as it brushed the floor in her haste.

Seeing the congregation still in the foyer she waved her hand at them like one would a flock of chickens.

"Make haste." She advised as she opened the parlor door and slipped inside.

As if to spur them on a loud moaning noise rang from behind the parlor door and they all took to the stairs in a flurry to get away, this time with Lucy taking the lead, eager to get as far away from the disaster as possible.

An hour later, safely shut away in an upstairs sitting room, the six girls discussed what to do now that their main character had to be recast.

"Well, there is only one thing to do, Kara will have to play the pig." Decided Barbara in her usual knowledgeable tone.

"What! I don't want to play a pig! I am the Lady!"

"Yes, but now you have to be the pig as well." Declared Barbara with obviously no consideration of Kara's outrage.

"It technically is the same thing, Kara." Said Lucy comfortingly in her mousy little tone.

"Why don't you be the pig Barbara, if it is so important, or why don't you take it Lucy?" demanded Kara indignantly.

A look of panic crossed Lucy's face.

"B-But I'm the sorceress, right Diana?" Lucy began to wring her hands nervously and Kara rolled her eyes and let out a groan.

"I am sorry Kara but Barbara's right, it is too late now to assign everyone new parts and you have the least lines." Replied Diana.

"Besides, you're the shortest." Added Donna who lounged in the window seat watching as a fresh flurry of snow floated by the glass.

"No, I'm not! Cassie is half an inch shorter than me at least!" defended Kara angrily.

"Perhaps, but I can't play the pig, I have to be Themis."

"And why is that?"

"Because I am the only one with blonde curls and Themis has blonde curls," Cassie replied as she gave her head a little shake, causing her _natural_ curls to bounce and jump about her head.

Kara watched her preen with absolute loathing.

"Themis could be a brunette." Said Donna, whose own hair was light brown and straight as a pin. Besides, she didn't like the idea of Cassie being able to get what she wanted just for her looks.

"No, she couldn't, haven't you ever seen the drawing of her in Aunt Alexa's book _hmmm_? She has blonde curls."

"She has curls but you have no proof their blonde, the picture is a sketch in black ink! The artist just didn't color in the hair."

"Which means it's blonde."

"Well if you get to be Themis because of that, then I want to be a tiger." Added Barbara who had been contemplating.

"What?" her five companions asked as they looked at her in surprise.

"What's wrong with being a horse? You were fine with it when I wrote it?" demanded Diana who wasn't sure she was on board with everyone taking creative license.

"Well if being blonde is grounds for being Themis then having red hair is grounds for being a tiger, besides it's more exotic."

" _Ugh_ fine!" announced Diana who honestly didn't see the difference as long as Barbara remembered to play her other roles according to the script.

The question of the pig having finally been settled they went about making sure they had everything in place for the performance and rehearsed their lines once more.

However, while there was a discussion happening over costuming Donna became bored and returned her attention to the window.

"Look there's a carriage!" Donna cried and the other five girls quickly joined her, pressing against the cold glass.

"It must be Clark and Lois!" cried Lucy.

"We have to tell Ma!"

 _Downstairs_

"Clark! Welcome home!"

Mrs. Kent held out her arms and embraced her son.

Clark had to bend down significantly to hug his mother, but he managed. However, he did notice that she seemed smaller than before.

"Lois dear, Happy Christmas."

Martha hugged her daughter-in-law with the same affection she had shown her son and beamed with pride at the pair.

"Come inside both of you."

"I'll help Desmond with the luggage first Ma."

"Very good Clark, I'll send Oliver out to help you."

Martha and Lois made their way into the house as Clark began untying their trunk from the carriage.

Once inside Martha sent Oliver out to help and then went to give Cook the final headcount for dinner, now that Clark and Lois had arrived. Meanwhile, Dinah, Lois, and Mrs. Lane settled in the parlor.

"I am so happy for you Lois, Clark must be thrilled." Dinah praised as she motioned for Lois to sit next to her.

Lois beamed with elation, and a little smugness, as she sat next to the other woman, completely drunk on her own triumph.

"It is a relief, especially after you made such a disaster of it last time." Mrs. Lane bit out as she scanned her daughter's form with a critical eye.

Lois's face blanched with rage as she curled her fists in an effort to control herself.

In solidarity Dinah took one of Lois's hands and gave it a little squeeze of sympathy.

"Another mistake like that and your husband will have cause to look elsewhere."

Dinah let out a gasp at the verbal slap in the face and looked at Mrs. Lane's cool facade with complete shock.

With a violent jerk Lois freed her hand from Dinah's grasp, every fiber of her being burning with rage as the sting of her mother's words hummed in her ears.

Mrs. Lane watched her daughter expectantly, as if this was all a lesson being imparted and that she was simply waiting for the inevitable, for Lois to lose her temper….again.

 _I won't give you the satisfaction, you old crow._

With painful restraint Lois forced her clenched hands open and battling an internal struggle that would have put Napoleon to shame Lois managed to arrange her demeanor into the perfect picture of a serene lady.

Dinah watched this change in expression as if she was seeing a dog walk on its hind legs, but Mrs. Lane simply arched an eyebrow in skepticism.

Yet Lois hadn't quite won against her natural instincts.

"Thank you _mother,_ for reminding me that I am nothing more than a _broodmare_." She hissed.

Mrs. Lane's lips curled into a benevolent smile as if she was pleased to hear these words, like the lesson she had been trying to teach for years had finally been learned.

"For a woman with no son position is always tenuous. You wouldn't want to end up like the Princeton girl, subservient to the charity of others."

This time even Lois was shocked.

Dinah finally managed to regain her tongue and opened her mouth in order to defend her friend and cousin, but she didn't get the chance.

With a bang the parlor door burst open and a blonde haired little streak threw herself at Lois in a tremendous hug.

Kara was quickly followed into the room by the other girls, all of whom began to bombard Lois with questions and well wishes of "Merry Christmas!" All that is except Lucy who was the only one to pause and curtsy in greeting, which was proper, before standing quietly a little away from the group with her hands folded, but no one noticed.

After sustaining a hundred greetings as well as being introduced to Donna and Cassie, Lois noticed her sister waiting patiently in the corner.

 _Just as mousy as ever._ Lois thought and then mentally chastised herself. She had made a mental promise to try and reach out to her younger sister during this visit, so with a bright, and a little forced, smile she greeted her.

"Hello Lucy."

"Hello Lois….Did you have a pleasant journey?"

 _Figures she couldn't come up with anything more interesting to say than that._ Once again Lois had to check herself for mentally writing off her sister so quickly.

But watching Lucy with her scared eyes and listening to her soft pleading voice that always sounded like she was about to apologize or burst into tears, or perhaps both, was just so grating! She wished she could just shake her senseless or until she gained some gumption.

Lois let out a resigned sigh, maybe sibling closeness wasn't meant for them.

"It was fine, thank you."

Lucy nodded and looked at her hands.

"Was London co—"

"Lulu! Run and fetch me my fan, and for heaven's sake! Stand up straight child." Mrs. Lane commanded, cutting her youngest daughter off.

Lucy's face flushed pink with embarrassment as she left the room.

Dinah bit her lip and Lois rolled her eyes as Lucy did her mother's bidding. The other children watched her go with sympathy but Diana's blood boiled as she looked at Mrs. Lane's entitled face.

With two strides she crossed the rug and stood above Mrs. Lane who sat comfortably in her chair.

"Here." She said as she dropped her own fan into Mrs. Lane's lap.

Lois tried to stifle a laugh that turned into a snort as her mother's face began to glow a deep beet red.

Just then the door opened and Oliver sauntered in.

"Well, are we all getting along in here?"

 _7:00 o'clock that evening_

Diana laid her head back against the tub's rim and shut her eyes, listening to the peaceful sound of the fire crackling in the hearth.

She loved this time of day.

Every evening at 7:00 o'clock, while the rest of the household was preparing for dinner she took a bath.

A luxury that she had been disturbed to discover was not conventional among the English.

The servants were flabbergasted to learn that she expected to bathe every day! And even Aunt Martha found her request extravagant and unnecessary.

 _Dear it really isn't necessary to bathe oneself every day, the use of a good soap and clean cloth is quite enough to keep one's face and privacies hygienic. And the burden it puts on those below you is strenuous…at least bathe in the kitchen so the water can be pour directly into the tub and not have to be carried all the way upstairs, where it will surely cool by the time it reaches you._

This had been Aunt Martha's argument, and it may have been childish of Diana to do so but she completely ignored her Aunt's suggestion and continued to take her daily bath in her room.

Despite the good will she had previously fostered the servants now took her for a spoiled Princess accustom to getting her way, which was not entirely untrue, and could not understand why she insisted on continuing such a _foreign_ custom that in their eyes was completely unnecessary and only proved to increase their work load.

In an act of defiance the housekeeper finally took the maids complaints to the Dowager Countess and implored upon her to make her niece cease in burdening the servants with her whims.

Deciding that an ultimatum may be for the best Aunt Martha declared that Diana would still be allowed her bath, but no servants were required to fill the tub in her room.

No water, no bath, unless Diana wished to fill it herself.

This arrangement pleased the servants who were sure that once the _Princess_ had to do her own work she would be put in her place. It also was satisfactory to Aunt Martha who believed Diana was unwittingly taking advantage of those below her station and should learn to value the work of others, but it also kept her from the unpleasant task of having to deny her outright, something Martha was ashamed to admit that she found very difficult to do.

She wanted to give her niece everything, she longed to see her happy and settled, and she worried Diana was not as content as she had managed to appear. Martha feared that the young girl still thought of the place she had left behind and of those who had stolen her away for so many years.

But Diana was not trying to be difficult or selfish, though granted she didn't really think about the trouble she was causing, but she just couldn't stand the idea of going without a daily bath, how was one supposed to remain clean?

Coming from a land where hot winds blew and sand stretched on for miles a bath was a privileged and practically sacred thing. Diana sighed as she remembered the harem baths, tiled walls decorated with intricate patterns of paradise that sparkled with bright colors and jewels, carved basins of smooth marble sat into the floor that sparkled with clear, clean, water that rippled in the light of a hundred candles as the steam filled the space bringing the scent of oils and perfumes that intoxicated the women and refreshed their skin from the dry desert sun. The soft laughter of the other women as they relaxed and talked while servants walked about on silent feet massaging shoulders and combing hair with sandalwood combs.

It was a ritual, and she couldn't let it die, even if this tin bowl was all she had.

But she would not bathe in the kitchen. She could accept that this precious time would no longer be accompanied by the sweet scents of lavender and incense, but that didn't mean she was willing to trade it for the stench of boiling meat and overcooked vegetables as servants chopped and hauled all around her, the kitchen would never do.

In the end, the stalemate failed because of one person, Big Barda.

When all others refused to Barda pumped the water from the yard, it was Barda who heated it over the fire in a copper kettle, and it was Barda who climbed the endless stairs and poured it into the tub in Diana's bedroom, never once complaining or saying a word in irritation. She took on this burden as if it had always been hers, and Diana got her bath without ever knowing the battle she had started, and with Barda doing all the heavy lifting the servants were once again feeling favorable towards the young miss. For if Diana's requests had annoyed them it was nothing compared to how much they disliked the unsociable Big Barda and enjoyed seeing her doing the extra work, though none of them took the time to realize that no one had asked it of her.

The sound of the door opening pulled Diana away from her dreams of elaborate bathhouses and she opened her eyes to see Barda waiting expectantly with a large sheet.

After drying off Barda helped her dress for dinner, Diana still wasn't thrilled with how many layers of clothing she had to wear (that corset was still up for debate in her mind) and how long it took to get ready, but she had to admit that she did enjoy the finished product.

She happily turned from side to side inspecting her new gown, it was white satin with an off the shoulder neckline and delicate little sleeves of white silk organza that danced around her upper arms and was embroidered with little leaves in silver thread that matched the embroidery on the white organza overskirt that fluttered with her every move. The crowning glory of the dress was a red silk flower trimmed with green ribbon to look like leaves and glass bead holly berries that had been stiffened with wire and pinned to the front of the bodice where the sloping neckline came to a point. There was a similar construction of silk ivy and false berries that was pinned right above her hip where the starched satin bodice met the overskirt.

As Diana lifted her skirts to view her matching slippers and stockinged legs she felt a momentary sense of guilt at having received a new gown for the Christmas celebrations when Kara had not been given one and had to wear one of her Sunday dresses. But it couldn't be helped, as Diana had grown so much since coming to live at the Kent's that none of the clothes Lois had initially ordered for her fit anymore. So there was little choice but to buy her a new wardrobe and donate the old to the poor.

 _At least_ , she thought, _the poor need not worry about receiving used items as I hardly had time to wear all of them._

"Sit down." Said Barda and Diana looked to see the maid motioning for her to take her seat in front of the vanity.

Diana smiled excitedly.

"Just a minute Big—Uh I mean Barda."

Diana rushed over to the chest at the foot of her bed and pulled something out, quickly hiding it behind her back so the maid wouldn't see.

Then with a smile so wide it made her cheeks hurt she rushed back over to the made and thrust out her hand announcing…

"MERRY CHRISTMAS BARDA!"

The giantess looked down at the 15-year-old's open palm and picked up the handkerchief that was being presented to her.

She turned the plain piece of white cloth over in her hand in order to see a large, and rather crooked, _B_ embroidered on it.

She looked up from the handkerchief at the girl who still seemed about ready to burst with excitement as she studied Barda's stoic face for any inkling of emotion.

"It's a Christmas present," Diana explained. "Kara said that at Christmas we are supposed to give gifts, so I made you this."

Barda nodded her head. "It will be good for dusting."

Diana was disappointed that was all she had said, but she supposed, for Barda, it was a thank you.

Barda reached into her own pocket and produced a small box that fit into the palm of her hand with a little square of cream colored parchment tied to it with a red ribbon.

"This came for you. Now sit."

The initial excitement that Barda had also gotten her a present was instantly squashed, but curiosity about the small parcel was intense as she obeyed Barda and took a seat.

While the maid pulled the brush through her raven locks Diana untied the ribbon and unfolded the paper which turned out to be a note written in small uniform letters that were so neat they almost looked printed.

 _Dear Lady Diana,_

 _I am regrettably sorry that I cannot accept your generous invitation to Christmas Eve dinner, which unfortunately means I will also be unable to attend the debut of your first Opera, to be performed following supper, though I am sure it will be a resounding success and I have all the faith in the world in your skills as a playwright. It was the utmost of kindness for you to think of an old man during your holiday festivities, but I am afraid circumstances do not allow me to be away from my duties on this Christmastide. Though I do wish you, dearest Lady, the happiest of Christmases and look forward to your visit come Boxing Day._

 _Many Happy Returns of the Season,_

 _Alfred Pennyworth, Butler, Wayne Castle Kent, England._

 _Postscript,_

 _I have sent along a present that I hope you will cherish, as I have these many years. It was given to me by a great Lady who very much resembled yourself, whom I believe would have wished it to be passed on to you._

Finishing the note Diana opened the box and smiled as she withdrew from it a bracelet made of a delicate chain of linked gold circles, from which hung a gold pendant with a swooping and elegant _D_ engraved into one side of its shining surface.

With a squeal of delight Diana fastened the clasp around her wrist and watched the lamp-light dance across the polished gold.

She was delighted in her new present, because it was given to her by the man who seemed to her to be the closest representation of what a father figure should be, and who she felt an overwhelming desire to make proud, and this token was proof that her sentiments had been received and welcomed by the kind older gentleman.

 _What luck that it has my initial on it._

Barda sat down the brush and reached for the fine-toothed-comb.

"When is Vanessa coming to do my hair?" Diana asked as she continued to inspect her present.

"I am doing your hair tonight," Barda replied evenly as she began to section bits of mane with the comb.

Diana's head shot up.

"What? B-But!"

"Don't jerk." Barda snapped as she reached for some pins.

Diana closed her eyes, sure that soon her scalp would have bald spots from being preyed upon by Barda's iron paws.

Meanwhile, watching through the cracked door crouched Lucy who smiled as she watched Barda arranging Diana's hair in the curled Grecian style of the previous fashion that Lucy knew Diana preferred.

There was a very good reason for Lucy to be spying on Barda's attempts, for it had been Lucy who had taught the awkward ogress her new skills.

Despite her shy behavior and people pleasing nature Lucy held a secret. In her wildest dreams and fantasies there was one thing Lucy longed for above all else, to be an actress! When no one was looking, or cared to know where she was, the 12-year-old would spend hours before her looking-glass pretending to be all manner of heroines and forlorn ladies. Joan of Arc, the savior of France, Juliet, doomed love of handsome Romeo, fair Ophelia, the cursed maid of Denmark, and on and on her playacting went.

As a side skill to her secret dreams Lucy, who did not have the luxury of her own maid, had taught herself how to arrange hair, not just in the popular fashion, but in every manner conceivable that might be required of the parts that are so desired of one whose heart longs for the stage. Her own hair was always quaffed with the utmost care by her own hands and it was common knowledge that she possessed the skill for she alone was the one allowed to fix her mother's tresses, as Mrs. Lane didn't trust the job to the hired girl who was their only servant.

Pleased with her prodigy's progress Lucy slipped away to finish her own hair before it was time for supper.

 _7:45 Christmas Eve, Riverfoot Hall._

The table was piled high with Christmas delicacies, roast potatoes, and gravy, puddings, breads, vegetables, and sweets, pies, tarts, biscuits, and jellies, as well as fragrant soups and broths that filled the whole house with tantalizing aromas. And at its center was the Christmas goose.

Donna, Cassie, and Kara peered at the sumptuous feast with wide hungry eyes as they waited painfully for the others to come downstairs, until at last cook shooed them from the premise to await their dinner in the hall.

When at last the last guest had made it downstairs they entered the dining room and took their assigned places.

While Clark carved the goose and everyone else laughed and toasted Diana took a look around the table at everyone seated in their finery enjoying the festivities.

Mrs. Lane's apricot dress had large billowing sleeves that she was constantly having to battle to keep from sliding into the various dishes as they came round. Next to her sat Lucy who looked the perfect angel in her flouncy pink dress with a variety of frothy ribbon bows that matched the pair pinned to either side of her head, her hair was curled in long ringlets in the front with a low bun in the back that had been smoothed down with pomade. Quite a different picture from Kara who sat next to her in a brown dress with white pock-a-dots, with her stick-straight blonde hair threatening to escape her two braids, and a stain of gravy dribbling down her white pinafore.

Next to Kara sat Cassie and Donna who were matching in their simple dresses of red and green tartan. On the other side was Lois who looked absolutely stunning in her mauve gown that was the latest fashion with its multi-tiered skirt and brought out the purple in her eyes. It almost distracted from the slight paleness of her face as she pushed the food around the plate with her fork and veered away from each dish as it passed by.

By Lois was Clark, at the head of the table, he had chosen a coat of royal blue that made his eyes sparkle, which were on full display as he had not worn his eyeglasses to the meal. As Clark raised a toast to the joys of the previous years and the expectations of those to follow, Oliver, who was seated next to Lois, whispered in his wife's ear and laughed as she blushed and smiled as she adjusted the collar of his forest green jacket and quietly reprimanded him for making jokes during Clark's speech. As for Dinah, she was a vision in an off the shoulder gown of canary yellow that was adorned with little black tassels. On the other side of Diana sat Colonel Lane, who ignored everyone else and ate with a ferocity that demonstrated that he was a man not given to the fine airs of genteel mannerisms.

Commissioner and Mrs. Gordon were also present, sitting on either side of Barbara, and the latter of which was enjoying a pleasant conversation with the Dowager Countess while the Commissioner tried to get Barbara to hand over the book she had snuck into dinner.

And finally at the end of the table sat Aunt Martha, dressed as always in her widow's black, but tonight she let little silver bobbles dangle from her ears instead of the jet mourning jewelry she usually wore.

As they all laughed and ate, breathing in the familiarity of each other's company Diana couldn't help but feel removed from the happy atmosphere. As story after story was told around the table of times gone by and friends that for her had no faces or names she found herself feeling resentful of their easy conversation of shared memories and a joint history that she was not a part of. They had all grown up together, known the same people, and shared the same experiences.

Even Donna and Cassie, who were only there because they were related to Diana, had more in common with the conversation than she. For they had come from this world and understood the customs and practices that the rest joked of so care freely. They had no doubt been to many Christmas Eve dinners like this and knew how to transverse the conversation and traditions with enjoyment. But not Diana, despite the past months living in England she had spent the entire meal wondering as to the significance of everything from the food they were eating to the origins of this holiday, a story that Oliver had tried to explain to her but she became hopelessly lost after he said something about a virgin giving birth. It was all so confusing.

But it wasn't just this reminder of all the years she had missed out on and things she did not know, but also the crushing disappointment that as the celebrations wore on it was becoming more and more apparent that this would not be the day that Bruce returned.

He had been gone for months, and though she had written him countless letters she had never received a reply. She missed him so much, he had promised he would come back, but it had been so long that she began to wonder how long it would take, how many more months, or possibly years until he would come back and she could tell him all her troubles and fears she still faced in this new homeland. Things she had tried so hard to keep hidden from her family in order to safeguard their happiness, only Bruce could know the truth, and he wasn't here.

"Diana!"

Diana blinked in surprise and quickly shut out her muddled thoughts.

"Yes, Donna?"

"Did your Aunt say if we could use the old dress Vanessa found in the attic?"

Diana smiled as she remembered their play and she nodded her head vigorously.

"Yes, she just said we have to be careful with it."

Donna beamed from across the table.

"This is going to be the best Opera ever!"

Once dinner was finished the adults made their way to the parlor where a row of chairs had been arranged for them in front of a homemade stage with a rung up curtain that had been _borrowed_ from an upstairs bedroom.

Taking their seats they patiently awaited the performance.

A small head with a swarm of yellow curls poked her head out from behind the curtain and nodded to Dinah who made her way to the piano which had been pushed to the right of the "stage" and played a few introductory cords.

The head disappeared and Barbara came thru the curtain, careful to keep it closed behind her. She was dressed in an old billowy nightdress that was tied at the waist with a blue sash and held in her hand a "scroll" made of discarded newspaper.

"Ladies and Gentleman, I, Melpomene, Muse of Drama, welcome you. The tale you are about to see is one of great struggle and perils, where love is put to the test and good must sacrifice for the better of all. Without further Au due, I present for your enjoyment the premiere production of, _The Knights Pig_!"

The audience clapped as Barbara bowed and scurried off stage, the curtain was drawn and the scene began.

With Dinah playing a light classical piece in the back ground the lady, (Kara wearing one of Ma's embroidered silk shawls) Danced out onto center stage, miming a walk through the woods as she paused to pick flowers.

Next came the dashing Knight! Played by Diana, because she was the tallest, wearing a pair of Clark's old trousers with her hair tucked beneath a cap and a mustache painted over her upper lip, carrying a "sword" made from the handle of an old parasol.

Alternating between speaking and singing the Knight introduced himself to the Lady and vowed to love her for all eternity. After a bought of shyness, brought on by Kara forgetting some of her lines, the Lady confessed her love for the Knight and offered him a phantom rose as a symbol of her devotion.

Suddenly thunder cracked! (Pots banged by Vanessa in the background) and the two lovers clung to one another in fear.

Out of the woods came the dread enchantress, Circe! Played to great effect by Donna in an old sheet pinned together with one of Dinah's brooches.

Circe scoffed at the pair, calling love an imaginary game of fools!

The Knight drew his sword to face the goddess.

With a cackle Circe produced a wand that was really a leg that had been pried off a stool when no one was looking, and cast a spell on the lady, reaching a climax of high notes as Dinah changed the music to one of foreboding crescendos and sharps.

With a wave of her wand Circe raised her hands and cast her magic, a handful of flour, before disappearing back into the woods with a sinister laugh.

Coughing and sputtering the Lady was transformed, and with a loud _snort_ became a piglet.

With a loud _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_ the Knight mourned his lost Lady and vowed to the moon and stars to not rest until he had saved her from this unfortunate fate. The Pig, however, took off running into the woods, dropping her false nose in the process which caused a ripple of laughter in the audience.

Now on a quest the Knight searched for the pig, but to no avail. As Dinah played a sad tune the hero spoke/sang of his determination and his plan to enlist the help of a kindly sorceress that lived nearby.

Right on cue the sorceress appeared! Who was played by Lucy in a paper crown, which she insisted a sorceress would wear since she could conjure anything, and carrying a vase that was supposed to be a crystal ball.

Chanting in a gibberish mix of Arabic that Diana had taught her and a few words Barbara had instructed her how to say backwards the sorceress cast her spell, searching for the little piggy. But the spell failed and the Knight turned away in sorrow and fell to his knees in despair.

Somewhere in the audience, a shushing sound was made after another spectator blew his nose.

"Fear not oh brave Knight!" Declared the Sorceress. "Another plan I have will return you to your lady love."

Spirits lifted the Knight raised his head and begged the Sorceress to reveal what he must do to save the one he loved.

"Deep in the Underworld, where Hades reigns and dread Persephone rules, there is one who will know where this trickster and outcast of the gods Circe will hide. Then you may find her and win back the life of the one you love." The sorceress decreed, forgetting to sing her lines as Dinah changed tunes once again.

"But how will I find this informant, oh kindly Sorceress?" the Knight implored.

"I will travel with you and safeguard you from harm."

And so the pair set off, climbing imaginary mountains and valleys before arriving on the banks of the river Styx, which was a blanket strung between two chairs.

There the heroes were met by Themis, played by Cassie in a beautiful empire wasted golden ball gown that had been found in the attic and holding high her scales of judgment, that were actually cooking scales borrowed from the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Themis's costume was too big and she kept having to set down her scales in order to hold the sleeves up on her dress.

"Here comes your informant brave heroes, be sure to not look at her directly." Themis directed as the heroes tied blindfolds over their eyes.

Across the river came Medusa, the terror of men, or rather Barbara in a paper-mâché hat of snakes.

Singing with flare Medusa told the heroes that Circe was hiding on her island, but warned them that a test of true love awaited them there.

After paying the boatman, Donna with a bag over her head, the heroes left the underworld for Circe's secret island.

After arriving they battled Circe's slaves, former heroes who had been transformed into animals, really it was just Cassie and Barbara throwing cushions at them but Barbara made a point of roaring so the audience would know she was a tiger.

Finally having defeated her captives Circe appeared and the Knight asked what he must do to save his Lady.

With a cruel smile, Circe told him.

"Prove your love for her, never in all the years I have wandered have I found true love in the heart of a man. Prove to me that you have this rare thing and I will return to you the one you love true."

Suddenly Dinah began playing an emotional aria on the piano as the Knight sang of his love, how his separation from her had taken the color from his life and now he wept tears of blue, longing for nothing other than her.

At the end of the song silence had fallen, not just among the players but the audience to, even the piano ceased to play. None of them had realized what a beautiful voice Diana possessed.

Remembering the play Circe raised her hands and pronounced the payment fair. The curse was broken!

With a cheer, the audience clapped as the pig, now once again Kara dressed as the lady ran across the stage and the lovers were reunited.

The Audience stood and applauded while the cast took a bow.

"Bravo! Well done girls!" Cried Aunt Martha and the others quickly agreed, even Mrs. Lane seemed to have enjoyed the performance, though the spectators had certainly viewed it as more of a comedy than the tragedy Diana had intended.

With excitement the players disbanded, going around the room accepting the praise of their elders.

"It really was very well done Diana, and I must admit you would make an inspiring hero." Clark smiled at his cousin and Diana beamed with pride as she wiped off the last remnants of the mustache from her face.

"Truly a worthy advisory for any opponent." Said a deep voice from the doorway and the whole room was instantly silent.

Diana turned to look.

A tall man with jet black hair and dark blue eyes stood in the doorway, in his hand was a small package. His mouth turned into a kind smile.

"Bruce!" she cried and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulders.

"You came back."

As he returned the hug he whispered.

"I told you I'd always come back, Princess."

"At long last, the prodigal has returned!" Cheered Oliver as he sauntered over.

Diana released Bruce and Oliver gave him a hearty slap on the back.

The spell having been broken everyone quickly filed in offering wishes of "Happy Christmas" and questions of his travels.

"Will you stay for parlor games? And there is still plenty of food left I could have cook fix you a plate." Offered Martha.

"No, thank you Lady Kent, but I must be on my way. I only wished to stop by and wish you all a happy holiday."

Martha looked disappointed but she smiled and told him that she hoped he knew he was always welcome in their home.

He thanked her and the rest of the party began to leave, either busy tearing down the production or changing out of costumes, or in the case of Colonel Lane, on the hunt for a good glass of brandy.

When nearly everyone had left Clark made his way over to his best friend.

"Where have you been?" Clark asked in a hushed tone so that Dinah, Oliver, and Diana who were busy putting chairs back wouldn't hear him. "Your message said we needed to talk but then I didn't hear anything for weeks. What were you doing?"

Bruce's smile had disappeared as he watched the others work.

"Later Clark."

"Bruce, is it something to do with Diana? If it involves my family I have a right to know."

"I said later, Clark, we'll talk tomorrow. Right now I have somewhere I need to be."

Bruce walked past his friend, knowing he owed him an explanation for his long absence and months of silence as well as the rather abrupt message he had sent him two weeks ago, but now was not the right moment.

"Diana, this is for you." He said holding out the package.

Diana's azure eyes sparkled as she took the gift reverently and pulled away the brown paper.

It was a book, bound in royal blue with gold writing that flourished across the cover in an all to familiar script.

"A thousand and one nights?" Diana read and looked up at Bruce, who was much more on eye level then he had been when he left.

"It's in Arabic, so you don't forget." Another little smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he waited to see her reaction to the gift.

With tears in her eyes, she hugged the book to her chest.

"Thank you, Bruce, thank you so much."

 _Midnight Christmas, Road to Gotham._

Bruce pulled his collar up against the wind that howled by his ears blowing snow into his eyes.

He had put his horse up in the stable and now he made the long walk up the path to the castle, which would have proven impossible and foolhardy on this snowy starless night for anyone else, but not him. He knew this path, he had it memorized in his very toes, and not even if he was blind could he have been lost on it.

After climbing the hill, fighting back against the snow and wind he crossed under the ancient gate, putting out a hand to feel his way along the cold stone into the courtyard that had shielded the castle for centuries.

Once behind those thick fortress walls the wind was no longer whistling at his back and he could once again raise his head and look out before him.

There in the window of the parlor he could see it, a tradition begun by his German grandmother almost eighty years ago. A Christmas tree, decorated with a dozen red candles glowing in the darkness, calling to him. And in the soft light he saw the figure of a man sitting patiently in a straight-back-chair by the fire, just as he had every Christmas for the past seventeen years, so that no matter where he was, no matter what he had done, Bruce would always have someone to welcome him home.

"Merry Christmas Alfred."

 _December 25_ _th_ _Queens Abbey, East Sussex England, 1843._

The young woman curtsied respectfully to the older, keeping her eyes down and her hands folded behind her back as she waited to be spoken to.

"Francis has decided that you will be allowed to accept Sabastian's invitation this year. You will be leaving first thing in the morning when the stage passes through in the village."

The younger woman's head shot up and she had to quickly conceal her excitement behind a penitent face as the older woman looked on.

"Thank you, Aunt Hortense."

The older woman continued to eye her thru narrowed eyes with suspicion.

"Your Uncle expects you to behave yourself appropriately, if we hear one word of misconduct you will be sent back at once, do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Hortense."

The woman nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response, for the time being.

There is a reception being held that your cousins have been invited to.

The woman's head shot up and this time she couldn't conceal her excitement.

"May I go?"

"Quiet! Vanity, it's always vanity with you, isn't it? Just like her."

Once again the young woman bowed her head, but this time it was so Hortense wouldn't see the pure hatred in her eyes.

Taking her gesture as one of penitence Hortense smiled and continued.

"It is an informal affair, a private gathering, so your Uncle has deemed it acceptable for you to attend, with the understanding of course that you will be in the company of your cousins and be observant of their exemplary behavior and feminine sweetness."

 _Not very likely_ , she thought as she continued to study her shoes.

"Here, Eliza has sent this for you to wear." Hortense held out a gown to her that she accepted with hands that shook with anticipation.

However, once she held it up her heart sank.

"I can't wear this."

"And why on earth not?" Hortense snapped, her suspicious edge returning.

"It's too big, it will swallow me, and it's so old, I can't go to a party wearing this I'll be a laughing stock."

"For the day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon every one that is proud and lofty, and upon every one that is lifted up; and he shall be brought low. Do not forget the sin of pride that caused the fall of Absalom, you should pray for forgiveness."

"Yes, Aunt Hortense….But this dress won't fit."

Hortense was clearly out of patience as she snapped. "Make yourself productive for once Lina and put your skills to good use."

Not waiting for another lecture the girl curtsied again and ran out of the room with the dress.

Later in the safety of her small bedchamber, she held the dress up to the light of the fire and sighed.

She remembered this dress, Eliza had worn it when she was seventeen, which had been nearly seven years ago. It was of a dark blue heavy fabric with black lace trim and huge puffed sleeves and an odd pattern of pleating down the bodice. It would not suit her coloring at all, at least that was her staunch opinion.

But beyond its fashionable blunders, there was also the practical dilemmas. Eliza was a buxom girl and far more robust than herself, not in a million years would she be able to fill out that dress.

"What am I going to do?"

 _Make yourself productive for once._ She reflected on her Aunt's words and a smile spread across her face. Aunt Hortense was right, surprisingly, she could still put this dress to good use.

Scrambling under the bed she pulled out her sewing basket and took a seat on the edge of her ancient Tudor bed.

Ripping at the seams she began to deconstruct the dress down to its core elements.

 _This is, in fact, a fine idea, I'll completely unstitch the garment, and there is a good length of cloth here as well as a variety of embellishments. I can use them to create for myself an entirely new dress, all to my own design._ She thought proudly.

Reaching deep into the basket she removed a folded piece of yellow paper. She herself had limited knowledge of the current fashion, as she had so very few opportunities to see anyone beyond the estate's grounds, so this was her sole piece of information about the styles of the outside world. It was a page she had managed to tear out of one of Hannah's fashion magazine's three years ago when they had come down from London on a visit. Using this as her guide she could fashions a dress on her own ideals and trust her instincts to make up for any changes to fashion that had occurred with the passing of time.

Her smile grew as she began making a pile of buttons and her mind's eye designed her new gown.

"It may be a cast-off, but when I am through no one will ever remember Eliza Randle's hand-me-down, for all they will see is me."


	12. Chapter 11: Explanations

**For those who were getting anxious, there will be more Diana and Bruce, moments in the next chapter as well as progress on the Dagra storyline...just thought that since I have been doing such a poor job updating that you might like a preview. (I will try to do better)**

 **Thank you so much for bearing with me and continuing to read this story.**

 **As always Please Review!**

 **Chapter 11: Explanations**

 _Wayne Castle, Kent England December 25, 1843, 4:00 o'clock._

Clark admired a pair of ancestral dueling pistols that hung over the mantle as he waited patiently for Bruce to join him in the late Duke's study.

Funny that after all these years Clark still so closely associated this room with Thomas Wayne. It was probably because, despite the passing of seventeen years, it still remained virtually untouched since the last day he had lived.

 _Interesting,_ Clark thought, _that he shuns his London home but still keeps this office the same._

Thomas and Martha Wayne had not liked the doom and gloom of the old castle or the slow pace of country life, so they had made London their main residence and only used the castle infrequently when absolutely necessary. As a result, the castle itself held almost no trace of their existence but instead was a hodge-podge of the designs, times, and tastes of its past residents, the one exception to this being the study. Thomas Wayne had taken the time to decorate this small, almost cramped room, turning it into an office to be used during his infrequent visits to the castle to deal with the business of the estate. It was the only room in the whole medieval complex to bear the signature of his parents and Bruce had left it alone, but whether that was out of respect, nostalgia, or simply because he himself was at his residence so little as to bother with redecorating Clark couldn't say.

 _Bruce never did care for change._

Turning his mind away from the unpleasant thoughts of old ghosts Clark looked out the window.

The snow had stopped falling and he was sure that back at his own house the children were no doubt happily sledging in the deep snows to their hearts' content.

A smile spread across Clark's face as he adjusted his glasses.

 _Good,_ He thought, _Diana needs a distraction._

Clark sighed resignedly at the thought of his cousin. She had been mooning about all day! Every word out of her mouth had been _Bruce this,_ and _Bruce that._ He had thought she had been getting over this crush of hers but after Bruce's appearance last night it was clear that she had merely become more skilled at hiding her feelings, a thought that worried him, and that her affections had only grown.

She had hounded him all day with questions and requests to go visit and twice he had caught her trying to sneak off on her own. Well, actually it had been that mammoth of a maid of hers that had put a stop to it, more of a warden than a maid really. It had been insufferable, finally, he had managed to escape the teenage barrage to visit Bruce himself, under the guise of giving season's greetings to the tenant farmers; a task he actually did need to complete at some point.

Thank goodness for his mother. He didn't know how but Ma seemed to know that he needed to speak to Bruce alone and managed to pry Diana away from his side long enough to offer him an escape.

 _What am I going to do about her? She is so young, this infatuation can only lead to heartbreak._

It didn't help that no one else seemed to share his opinion.

Ma thought it a harmless crush, Dinah thought it a passing fancy, Oliver found it amusing, and Lois actually had the audacity to remark that it would be a good match!

Did no one see the dangers of this situation but him?

Diana was only 15 years old! And she had spent her entire life in a foreign backwater (at least in his mind) and from what little he understood of eastern cultures he felt certain that her upbringing had been particularly sheltered from male influences and attention.

Besides, Bruce did not see her in that way and the one-sidedness of this attraction he feared would be crushing.

 _And just when she was doing so well._

If he had taken a moment longer to dwell on that thought he might have noticed that Diana appeared to be doing a bit too well.

In a relatively short span of time, she seemed to have assimilated to the English culture perfectly! Her manners and behavior were undeniably of the British noble class, even if her temperament could be a bit brash and headstrong at times, her education was progressing smoothly, and there was no trace of foreign customs or ideals in her mannerisms and conversation. Her overall appearance was one of contentment and happiness in her new life, almost as if it was all she had ever known. All that remained giving even the slightest hint that she might not be an ordinary English girl born and bred, was the melodic tinge of an accent that caressed her speech and spoke subtly of a past that betrayed all appearances.

Yes, to Clark's mind Diana seemed perfectly, wonderfully, happy. And what cause was there visible to make him believe otherwise? She was always smiling and joyfully running about with Kara, drinking in the freshness of the countryside with all the vigor of youth. Never did she complain of misunderstanding those around her, not once had she shown even the smallest unhappiness with her circumstances, her every action and word spoke of her love for her family exuding an unselfish desire to see them all as happy and carefree as she appeared.

But it was the silence that hid the crack in this beautiful and skillfully painted picture.

Never, _never_ , did Diana speak of herself or the life she had once lived. The names of those who had been all she had known never brushed her lips and the voices of a far-off land were never heard. These she did not speak of and almost didn't dare to think.

But no one had ever asked her about those things and so she did not speak.

So to Clark, she was _perfectly_ happy.

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. He smiled at his oldest friend and embraced the man who was the closest he had ever come to having a brother.

"Sorry I kept you waiting, Alfred insisted on carols."

"I'm sorry to have missed it!" Clark smiled while Bruce gave an unamused shrug and motioned for the former to take a seat.

"So, are you ready to explain yourself?" Clark asked as he reached into his jacket and produced the letter Bruce had written him a few weeks ago.

Flipping it on the desk between them he lounged back in his chair and waited expectantly.

"Sorry if I caused you any alarm." Bruce apologized as he picked up the note and laid it to the side.

"Alarm? You disappear for months without saying a word, leaving only a name, Arthur, as the sole courier for any correspondence. Just as you have a thousand times before, why should that give me any alarm?"

Bruce glared at him, clearly, he was not amused at Clark's attempt at levity.

"Oh, or could you mean that I might have been, ever so slightly, concerned when the man I entrusted with the safekeeping of my cousin dropped her on my doorstep and then disappeared into the night?"

"Clark…"

"O no that couldn't be it because you had, technically, done as you said and returned her to us with not so much as a scratch. So it must be the letter you sent me, what two-three weeks ago, that simply said 'Will return soon, we need to talk.' Now I suppose that could cause _some_ concern seeing as how you had just left Diana with us with no talk of your journey, how it had gone, what she was like or if she handled it well, or any hint of an explanation as to why it took you nearly a _month_ longer to return then expected even though you sailed at the appointed date. But if you think that isn't a reason for alarm, then how about the part where I still know nothing of the monsters who stole a baby girl from her family and kept her imprisoned in a foreign land for thirteen years?!"

Bruce never broke eye contact.

"Are you finished?"

"Are you offering an explanation?"

"Only if you're finished."

Clark waved his hand for him to continue.

"No, by all means, go right ahead, wouldn't want you to get distracted by apologizing or anything."

"Thanks, and for the record, I said I was sorry." A smirk crept onto Bruce's face and Clark crossed his arms and shook his head as if to ask why he even bothered.

"So what do I need to know Bruce?"

The other man cleared his throat and once more became serious.

"I felt you had you had a right to know, since you're her legal guardian, of what was involved in securing Diana's return, in case it ever becomes relevant in the future."

Clark straightened up in his chair as anger hardened his face, leaning forward he nodded.

"What happened?"

"The reason I was a month late in returning with her was because when I arrived in Dagra I was refused entry into the city for some time."

"How long?"

"About a week and a half."

"Why? They should have been expecting you."

"I never received an answer for the delay but afterward I was granted an audience with the Sultan….he was not as, _receptive_ , to the idea of her leaving as you had been led to believe. At least not until certain, arrangements were made."

"Arrangements?"

Bruce ignored Clark and pressed ahead with the story.

"Once on board things became more _complicated_ when it became apparent that she was unaware of my purpose to bring her back to England…"

"Wait What!? She didn't know? But surely it was her idea, the letter said she wished to come home! How could she not have known!?"

Bruce hesitated at Clark's outburst of confusion.

"She didn't tell you?"

Clark was lost in his own thoughts, still too stunned by this revelation to hear his friend.

"Who What?"

Bruce paused a moment, allowing Clark to recover a little and refocus his attention.

"Diana, she didn't talk to you about any of this?"

"No, she hasn't said a word and we haven't pried…she's to forget the past if she wants to….it's better let it be…..It doesn't matter now, she's happy and safe the rest needn't bother us anymore."

Bruce's brow furrowed at Clark's cool assumption that all was well. He chose his next words carefully.

"In light of her ignorance before I felt it best to not trouble her with unnecessary facts."

"What kind of facts?" Clark's voice had hardened again, almost like it had been Bruce who had stolen and lied to him not the Sultan.

"Because we were already so late in returning I had to leave immediately or risk missing the deadline."

"What deadline? Bruce!"

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he studied Clark, contemplating his distress.

In a calm and even voice he continued.

"The Sultan wouldn't let her go without an incentive. So a meeting was arranged with the Crown Prince, that's why I had to leave like I did…..I held up my end of the exchange and they have sworn not to interfere with or bother her. But just in case I thought you should know."

Clark gripped the arms of his chair so hard Bruce could hear the wood creak and groan in protest.

" _He sold her?_ "

"Yes."

"I'm sorr…"

"How much?"

"That's not important."

"How much Bruce?"

Clark was standing now, fists clenched in rage wishing he could smash them into the Sultan's face.

"300,000 pounds."

Clark's eyes widened in astonishment as the energy drained from his limbs and he fell back into his chair.

"Dear God…" Clark leaned forward holding his head in his hands.

" _How am I going to repay you?_ " he whispered to himself

"That's not necessary," Bruce assured in a business-like manner, anxious to move on from this subject.

"No, no I have to…it's too much, it's just too much."

"Clark, I don't expect anything."

"I can't just let you buy her freedom and while I contribute nothing!"

"You don't have a choice."

Clark stared at him dumbfounded before looking at his toes in shame.

Bruce was right, he would never have that kind of money, and he was barely managing now. The truth was his father's death had financially ruined them. His job at the paper, which had once been a mere pursuit of passion, was now a necessity for survival. To his eternal shame, he had had to sell off nearly the entire estate just to pay the death duties. All that was left was the house, and though he hadn't admitted it to her if it wasn't for his mother's small inheritance of a monthly allowance from her mother's estate paying for the upkeep they would have lost Riverfoot Hall long ago.

"What about her money? Between what grandmamma left her and the Princeton estate there surely out to be enough!?" Clark said hopefully.

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh.

"You know better than anyone that the question of Diana's inheritance is far from settled. And would you really do that to her? Have her buy her own freedom with the fortune of her dead relatives she doesn't even remember?"

Clark gave up. "No."

"Besides, if you did you'd have to tell her that she was sold like a bag of oats."

"You're right…thank you, Bruce."

"There's nothing to thank me for, besides, you need all the money you can get now that you have to feed and clothe two growing girls."

The smiles returned as the mood lightened and Clark rolled his eyes good naturedly.

"Heaven help us if Diana is still growing!" Clark groaned

"She's a Princeton, you always knew she'd be tall."

"Don't I know it! Do you remember her father? What was he like seven feet?"

"Something like that."

"Well, let's hope that nature will be kind and decide that for Lady Diana Princeton five foot ten inches is tall enough!"

Bruce raised an imaginary glass and the two men engaged in a mock toast to the hopes of Diana's stunted growth.

"Maybe you'll get your wish, she's almost sixteen, most girls are finished growing at her age."

Clark's mood became more reflective.

"She's still just a child, she needs protecting. I wish I knew how to protect her from being misled by other's self-interests. Elliot has written me asking for permission to call, he is trying to weasel her out of her inheritance mark my words. I'm only afraid of how far he'll go in order to safeguard it for himself. He might even try to marry her!"

"You can't fight her battles and frankly I doubt you would need too. You're her cousin not her father Clark."

"Do you ever think about Zachary?"

"Not lately."

"Seems to be all I can think about."

"Don't Clark."

"Dying all alone in that big house, thinking the whole time that she was dead. He was cheated out of his daughter's life by villains who had the audacity to sell a girl back to her own family. I owe it to his suffering to ensure that she is taken care of."

The conversation had run its course and frankly, they were both exhausted by it.

"How's Lois?" Bruce asked trying to think of something unrelated to talk about.

A beaming smile broke across Clark's face, erasing all his worries in a single stroke and making him appear as giddy as a schoolboy.

"Lois is expecting."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he became equally delighted in his best friend's good news.

"Congratulations! This calls for a toast."

Bruce walked over to a cabinet and removed a decanter and two glasses.

"Thank you, I have to admit that after the miscarriage I had begun to resign myself to the idea that it might not happen at all for us, but it would appear that good fortune has smiled!"

Bruce handed him a glass and raised his own.

"To your future child, whatever it may be."

Clark's smile widened even further as his eyes sparkled with mischievous glee.

"Heaven forgive me but, I think it will be a boy!"


End file.
